


Arose A Phoenix

by Aelwyn



Series: Vignettes of Rose and the Doctor [10]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Pregnancy (minimal), Takes Founding of Gallifrey Liberties, The Menti Celesti are a thing, kid fic (VERY minimal)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 61,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelwyn/pseuds/Aelwyn
Summary: Burn his feathers still he fliesStab his hearts and there he liesA Haęon’s life for your gainFire burns red; blood still stainsWhen all he is is reduced to ashFeuds will still but teeth yet gnashAnd at the height atop your zenithWatch the dust; arose a Phoenix
Relationships: Rose Tyler and The Other, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler
Series: Vignettes of Rose and the Doctor [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1436614
Comments: 23
Kudos: 112





	1. Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> I want to let it be known right off the bat that this story concept has been sitting in my WIP forlder for ages and I had started writing it in season 9 and I completely forgot about it for ages, which is why it is only just getting posted about 4.5 years later. I didn’t like the idea of a new regen cycle at the time and so ignored it, working the regenerations so that Twelve was the last one but excluding War. I have not changed this, because quite frankly I have other stories I want to work on and this was a small thing on the side anyways. However, I wanted to finish off the last two or three chapters and post it. 
> 
> Basically, read this with the mindset that it was written in 2015.
> 
> So here are the main character and city names that will be in this story, as a quick guide. Also, I did character descriptions for Eresian’s sisters because I decided to torture myself and give him a ton of them.
> 
> Arkytior: Are-kit-tee-ore
> 
> Eresian: Air-ee-see-enn 
> 
> Faerven: Fair-venn
> 
> Layana: Lie-on-ah
> 
> Kassia (Cass-ee-ah): The eldest of Eresian’s younger sisters. She has strawberry blonde hair that is long and curly, and silver eyes.
> 
> Riven (Rie-venn): Second eldest sister with short black hair and blue eyes.
> 
> Zahnah (Saw-naw): Middle sister with very long black hair and silver eyes.
> 
> Teanai (Tee-enn-eye): Second youngest sister with light brown curly hair and silver eyes.
> 
> Midia (Mid-ee-ah): The youngest sister and child in general. She has soft shoulder length rust brown hair with blue eyes.
> 
> Voranaer: Vore-on-air (means “the favored”)
> 
> Asheun: Ash-eh-on
> 
> Caldeon: Call-day-on
> 
> For a bonus, There will be a character called ‘Peylix’ (Pay-licks). According to Doctor Who Big Finish Audio this was Omega’s name before he was given his title. While he originally got this title by receiving the lowest failing mark possible at the Academy (an Omega mark) and thus hated the name, here he gets it through no fault of his own for an accident which made his battalion arrive last to a crucial battle.

The moment she stepped into the Untempered Schism, Rose felt her heart temporarily stop beating. She could see everything at once and yet nothing forever, and she drifted formless through eternity. Time coursed powerfully through her veins replacing her blood and she let out a voiceless scream of agony. White light, hotter than a supernova, burned in her eyes and pierced her mind. All that she was, all that she had, turned to cinders. Mercifully, the world went black and she knew no more.


	2. The House of Voranaer

Eresian huffed as he reached the top of the hill, panting with the effort as he hauled himself the last few handholds to lay on his back and stare at the burnt orange sky. Under the light of the twin suns he dropped his tufty gold-highlighted sienna hair back into the scarlet grass and laughed, filling his lungs with fresh air and feeling more content than he had in weeks. Rich red dirt crumbled under his fingers as he scrunched the turf underneath them. After a few moments he rolled onto his stomach, and that was when he saw her.

Honey gold eyes sharpened with interest as he took in the young woman sprawled nearby. Her clothing was odd; a pastel pink jean jacket, indigo denim slacks, and a soft gold jumper with knee-high black converse. Certainly not something which belonged to either this planet nor the time period. It wasn’t so far off from his own apparel which consisted of a slightly dirtied off-white dress shirt, suspenders, and tan slacks with scuffed soft-soled leather shoes. So the planet of her origin, or at least the clothing, was Earth. 

Interesting, considering that at that moment Earth wasn’t even capable of supporting life and for another her clothes were at least from the late 20th century if not later of that very same planet. About sixty to eighty years after the period from which he had stolen his own apparel, if he were being speculative.

Her hair was the color of grain, and Eresian’s eyes widened when he realized that her pale skin was glowing faintly while her short-cropped hair seemed to shimmer with waves of soft light. Then she opened her eyes and he forgot how to breathe. The irises were gold, burning bright and terrible, making the pupils seem all the more dark and depthless. It took a few moments to realize that she was staring right at him, and then a few more when he realized that his respiratory bypass was running low. 

“Who are you?” He asked in Gallifreyan, slowly getting to his feet and going over to kneel in the dirt beside her. “Uh- sorry. I should have asked if you were all right first shouldn’t I?”

“I’m...” he was captivated by the faintest of echoes that her voice had, noting absently that she had replied in Gallifreyan. The woman frowned, something he very much wanted her not to do because he felt that a divine creature such as the one before him should have been smiling. “I am Arione.”

“...Arione,” he repeated. It was High Gallifreyan like his own name, indicating that she belonged to the very planet they were standing upon. But her clothing... well, who was he to judge? “Can you remember how you got here?”

“No.” Her sharp gaze fixated on him and he tried not to shiver. “Who are you?”

“Eresian. I come from the capital city, just beyond the rise of the mountains over the horizon.”

“You are far from home,” Arione commented perceptively as she rose to a sitting position beside him with a flash of pain that had disappeared as soon as it had presented itself. He felt himself blushing and idly wondered why that was.

“Sort of. My family’s estate is much closer.” Abruptly he remembered his manners, standing quickly as he offered her his hand. “I’d like to invite you to stay as a guest tonight; it’s already getting quite dark out.” Arione considered his proffered hand in mild confusion before taking it, seeming surprised when he helped her to her feet. 

He shuddered at her touch, his soulmark suddenly ablaze with golden energy that felt like raw time and differed greatly from the universal silver. He closed his eyes sharply and inhaled deeply, fighting the urge to look at her timeline. It was never a good thing for someone like him to do that in general, and something instinctual told him that to look upon her timeline would be his undoing. She was like nothing he had ever seen before and emotions like nothing he had ever felt before were tightening in his chest.

“That is a kind offer. I accept.” His hearts thrummed wildly, and he noted by a casual feeling of her pulse point in her wrist that she only had one. Eresian flashed a smile as he turned regretfully to lead them both carefully back down the hillside, pausing at the bottom to don his formal robes with a grimace. Arione watched with mild amusement as he concealed his distinctly non-Gallifreyan clothing underneath them but said nothing, preferring instead to walk - although that was an understatement he decided as her step was more akin to a glide - in silence. Belatedly, his mind in a haze, he noticed that they were still holding hands from when he had helped her to her feet and they hadn’t let go yet. Nor did he have any intention of doing so; he’d hold her hand as long as she let him. 

If he hadn’t known better he would have called her a goddess. She had an immortal bearing and ethereal glow about her - quite literally - that belied her quiet and reserved nature. But he did know better than to assume this warrior princess beside him was one of the Menti Celesti, and a pang of disappointment accompanied that reality check. She was anything but normal and to call her mortal was an understatement of such degrees that it actually irked him to refer to her as such. 

His home was coming into view now, though there was still a fair distance to walk, and he figured it was now or never. Pausing underneath a tree with thick silver branches, he swallowed nervously before asking.

“Where are you from? And if it isn’t too much of an intrusion to ask, what species are you?” Arione regarded him with that burning gaze, though he got the impression that it was soft, sort of gentle even, and it made his breath hitch. 

“I do not know where I am from,” she answered simply. “I have been and always will be. What species I once was I am no longer. I serve my mother and that is who I am.”

“Your mother?” Eresian asked.

“Vela.” All the blood drained from his face and she now appeared to be concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he squeaked, voice reaching an octave he had previously thought of as obtainable only to the female members of his species. He made an effort to clear his throat. “Ah. Fine. I think we had better go indoors; I can smell rain on the wind.”

“Really?” She asked as she tilted her head. Her nostrils flared slightly and he found it endearing when her nose crinkled with thought. “I can’t.”

“...I suspect that your ah, origin species might have been human.”

“Human... yes, it was.”

“You can’t remember anything before my finding you on that hill, can you?” She shook her head regretfully, seeming more worried about inconveniencing him than having any true concern for her lost memories. “Right then. I think you should see my mother. She is the current Hero, and she might-“

Anything Eresian would have said was cut off as she gripped his arm and practically dragged him with a frightening strength toward the estate. 

Arrival was uneasy as the servant was confused as to the presence of the young woman he had arrived holding hands with, but they were shown into his mother’s study quickly enough. The lady in question was regal in her features with heavily silvered sienna hair which must have once matched her son’s. It was long and held exceptional free waves that traveled down to the lower part of her back. Sharp silver eyes peered out at them from a wrinkled yet elegant face; the lines were those of laughter rather than hardship, but there was a set to her mouth that suggested she was no stranger to conflict. 

“Mother,” Eresian said softly in greeting, effecting a quick and tiny bow of reverence which Arione copied with confusion. 

“Peace, Eresian,” the matriarch said in clipped tones as she regarded her guest. “I am Lady Layana. I welcome you to our home.”

“Thank you, milady,” Arione murmured respectfully though she returned the woman’s gaze as if they were equals. Layana blinked in mild surprise but then nodded, gesturing for them to sit in some rather elegant but minimalist furniture near a large landscape window. A servant came in as if on cue and filled three glasses with crystalline liquid that at first glance appeared to be water but upon tasting proved to be a fruit extract from the estate’s orchards. Arione took an appreciative sip as she surveyed the lands through the window, a soft almost-smile on her face as she watched the suns set and the stars begin to glimmer in an ever-darkening deep violet night sky. 

Layana raised an eyebrow as her second son sat beside their guest, noting that neither had released the other’s hand since appearing in her study and on an educated guess had most likely not let go since they had first entwined fingers. 

“Might I ask who you are and where you are from?” She asked politely.

“She doesn’t remember anything beyond my discovering her on the hill this evening,” Eresian replied promptly. “Her name is Arione, and she...” he trailed off, looking at his companion worriedly. “She says that her mother is... is Vela.” Layana stiffened noticeably, her eyes hardening into silver flint as she gazed at their daydreaming guest. 

“Does she now?” 

“Mother... does she not appear to be... more than-“

“Eresian, I would ask that you retire for the night. I will see to it that Arione finds her accommodations for her stay here.” Eresian opened his mouth to argue but from a sharp glare from his mother he snapped it shut, pouting at being told off and sighing. 

“Arione?” He said gently. She turned to him and in the fading light Layana found it ever easier to see the ethereal glow about her. 

“Yes?” She replied softly. 

“I have to leave you for the night but I promise I shall see you in the morning.” There was a brief flash of something akin to fear in her eyes, but it faded quickly to be replaced by mild apprehension. He smiled at the trust she was placing in him, grasping her hand ever so much more tightly before releasing his grip and almost in an unconscious manner moved a strand of the shimmering golden hair behind her ear. Arione leaned into the touch so long as it lasted, and when he withdrew watched him stalk quickly out of the room. 

“What are your intentions regarding my son?” Layana asked tersely. Arione’s gaze snapped back to her and it took great effort not to flinch at the raw eternity she glimpsed in the younger woman’s eyes. 

“He reminds me of someone I... at least I think he... I... He is very much like someone I knew once,” Arione responded, confusion evident in her features. “I trust him because of that, but I just met him.”

“He seems to care greatly for you.” Arione’s cheeks blushed a rather beautiful shade of pink. 

“I’m afraid you would have to ask him about that, milady. I’m still trying to remember how I came here or where I’ve come _from_. Much less whether I know someone and if they mean anything to me beyond general acquaintance.” Layana nodded sharply in response.

“I see.” She stood. “In that case, if you would care to follow me I shall show you to your quarters for the night.” Pausing at the door she added, “And I suppose you shall be welcome to stay until you have gotten your affairs in order.” Arione bowed respectfully to her.

“Thank you very much, milady.” 

Eresian was seated at the dining table early the next morning reading a letter from one of his schoolmates at the Academy chuckling at the antics that young Rassilon had gotten himself into over the seasonal break, a piece of toast in one hand and the letter in the other. His brother and sisters were also present, as well as his cousins and aunts and uncles. All of them briefly paused in what they were doing to nod respectfully to his mother - as Layana was the ruling matriarch of their House - as she joined them and then promptly went back to what they were doing. 

“I heard that we had an unexpected guest arrive last night,” Eresian’s elder brother - the firstborn of their house and thus set to inherit the title as ruling member provided he was the next Hero which was statistically likely - commented. Eresian glared at him.

“Yes Faerven, we did,” Layana replied evenly as she regarded her two eldest children. Their flaming heads, one bright copper and the other a rich golden sienna, were inclined hostilely toward one another as sharp silver eyes regarded honey gold ones coolly. “She should be down shortly, provided her evening went smoothly. I’m afraid she has lost her memory.” The general chatter and business of the breakfast table faltered at the pronouncement into uncomfortable silence.

“Poor thing,” one of the aunts murmured sympathetically. “What is her name?”

“Arione,” Eresian said promptly without really thinking about it. He felt his ears heat up when he noticed everyone staring at him. “...I went for a walk up the hill last night and discovered her unconscious at the summit. It quickly became apparent that she wasn’t all right and I brought her home so she could get help.” 

“And it was good of him to do so,” Layana said quickly before Faerven could make a derogatory statement. 

“Milady, you asked to be informed when the lady Arione was awake,” a servant said quietly as they entered and stood at attention by the door. Layana nodded.

“Thank you. Please inform her that breakfast has been served in the dining hall, if she feels up to participating, and that a tray can be sent up if she is not.” With a quick bow the servant left. A few minutes later - and no Eresian was not keeping close track - he noticed that one of his sisters seated directly across from him was staring at the entry with a slack jaw and wide eyes. Smiling slightly at her astonishment, he turned in his chair to take in the sight of Arione descending the stairs and promptly forgot that anything else had ever existed. 

She was a vision of what any goddess would look like having taken the form of mortal creatures, her shimmering golden hair flowing freely in a soft wave as it hovered like a cloud a good inch or three above her shoulders. Bare arms and hands glowed softly with a light of their own; she had donned a seemingly weightless white dress of simple design that was quite modest about her torso but had the sleeves leaving off just past the soft curve of her shoulders. It was bound by a simple silver cord around her waist in a sort of Greco-Roman style, the skirt cascading down to whisper through the air just above the bones of her ankles, leaving a pair of simple flat sandals visible on her feet. Burning gold eyes surveyed the room at first with curiosity but, upon seeing that so many people were staring unabashedly at her, widened with unease. She froze at the bottom of the wide main staircase, shifting from one foot to the other as she bit her lip in what Eresian could already tell was a nervous habit. 

Her gaze suddenly focused on him, fear there, and he broke out of his trance abruptly. Standing quickly, he pulled the seat next to him out and held out a hand both in invitation and comfort. She smiled suddenly, relieved. The grin lit up her face even more than it already was, and maybe it was his imagination but her hair seemed to gleam even more so with light. Arione approached him with a quick nervous step and he felt her shudder slightly at his touch as he helped her into the chair. Sitting down after a few moments he resumed his breakfast, helpfully pointing out items of the spread he thought she might appreciate and making a point of engaging her in pointless chatter as she settled in. 

Rassilon’s letter lay beside him on the table, entirely forgotten. 

~*~§~*~

“They wouldn’t stop staring at me,” Arione murmured softly as they climbed back up to the hill where Eresian had found her. He sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders without really thinking about it, hearts thumping painfully against his rib cage as she leaned into his embrace. 

“They just don’t know what to do with you,” he said reassuringly. “You know things, so many things, about planets and stars that haven’t been born yet. Galaxies that have died, talk mathematics and sciences that have only just been discovered as if they were ageless. You know so many things about people and places, might-have-beens and never-weres. But absolutely nothing about yourself. It’s not unheard of but still, rare. A serious condition as well.”

“It’s not that,” Arione muttered with a shake of her head. “It was _me_. What I looked like rather than what I was saying.”

“You sort of- well, you sort of glow like an ethereal being rather than an ephemeral one. Us mere mortals as it were are bound to be a bit skittish around you.” She stopped walking, catching him a little off guard, but he halted as well as she looked at him with wide eyes. Wide, burning eyes that he found difficult to meet because he always felt like he would be able to see time untempered in their depths. 

“I do?” He swallowed nervously before nodding, wincing as she looked downcast. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“For scaring you.”

“You don’t scare me,” he said quickly before he realized that the words were actually true. She seemed to sense that at about the same time he did, and they both stared at each other dumbly for a few moments before he tugged gently on her shoulders and they began walking up the hill again. 

“Well, why not?” She asked. His grip on her arms tightened.

“I’ll tell you when we get to the top, all right? We’re just... it’s a tad sensitive.” 

“...All right.” 

Good as his word, Eresian motioned for her to sit on the red grass when they reached their destination. He settled across from her cross-legged and flashed a nervous smile. 

“So...” he began, trailing off. Arione smiled softly at him in encouragement.

“So.” He laughed at the gentle prod, pulling back the sleeve on his left wrist. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he had shed his formal robes almost as soon as they were out of sight of the estate.

“Right. You see?”

“Your soulmark?” Arione asked with a frown. “What about it?” The hopeful expression on Eresian’s face shuttered suddenly in disappointment and she winced. There was a part of her that found him familiar that didn’t want to see him hurt like that, especially when she was the one that caused the pain. 

“I thought- but you didn’t feel anything,” he finished defeatedly. “That’s- it doesn’t matter, I suppose. If your soulmark didn’t activate but mine did there isn’t much I can do about it.” 

“But mine is already active,” Arione replied with mounting confusion. Eresian’s eyes widened in surprise before he glanced at her already-bare wrist, which she obligingly turned toward him for better observation. He moved his fingers to hover above it before he froze, looking up at her hesitantly.

“I’ve heard that someone not your soulmate touching an active soulmark can be... painful,” he murmured, face blushing adorably as his usually-faint freckles were made more visible. She shrugged.

“Yes, but yours activated when you touched me and we’ve been able to figure out that I’ve traveled through time,” she persuaded. At his hesitant look she added, “Extensively. And since I can’t remember anything about my past it makes sense to assume that I might have already met you in my timeline, but not in yours.”

“I suppose...”

“Oh for- just do it,” Arione laughed. There wasn’t much steel behind the order, and the lovely sound of her laughing for the first time since he’d met her spurred Eresian into action. Smiling a little himself despite the sudden flutterwings in his stomach, he gently let his fingers move the rest of the way until they were resting on her soulmark. Then, hesitantly, he began moving them in a soft caress over it. He looked up suddenly as she gasped, afraid he had hurt her, and couldn’t quite restrain the tiny relieved laugh bubbling off of his lips when he saw that she was smiling. It was-

Well, the smile was one that he had never seen before with her wonderfully pink tongue perched lightly between two rows of pearly white teeth in the corner of her mouth. It was slightly flirtatious but in a relaxed sort of way, like she didn’t care whether it prompted him to make an advancement or not because she was just happy to be there with him. It made his hearts begin beating erratically. In like kind she reciprocated the action by trailing delicate fingers with short nails over his own soulmark and he shuddered at the harmless electric shock that enveloped his entire body. 

“So- so we are actually soulmates then,” he said hoarsely. Arione nodded, burning eyes brighter somehow with happiness. Almost like there was more white mixed in with the gold than orange, making them appear lighter. Eresian suddenly frowned. “But that means that, at some point in my future, we get separated and you come back here,” he protested. She shrugged.

“Been there, done that,” she muttered unconcernedly before her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. I can actually remember us getting separated.”

“Did it have anything to do with your losing your memory and coming here?” He asked eagerly despite the depressing subject matter. She shook her head.

“No, that was different. Although we _did_ get separated while investigating something that made me...” she trailed off thoughtfully, looking back at him apologetically. “It’s all mixed up in here, sorry. They’re not even full memories. More like muffled sensory detail that give me a vague idea of things that have happened.” 

“I’m still not sure I understand why you feel the need to apologize to me over something that’s resulted from some sort of traumatic event that happened to you,” he muttered dubiously. “Please, worry less about me when it comes to your predicament and worry more about yourself.” She was staring at him oddly. “Something I said?”

“Yeah, actually,” she said slowly before laughing. “I have a feeling that that argument happens a lot in our future. ...And goes both ways...”

“It would not surprise me in the slightest,” Eresian sighed exasperatedly, though he smiled. Arione shifted positions to lay out on the thick grass and he copied her, sighing contentedly as they observed the clear orange sky above them.

“We’ve done this before,” she said suddenly. “Stargazing too, lots of that.” 

“On this hill or-“

“Mount Perdition, mostly. At least I think.”

“What else did we- or will we- or- these tenses are terrible,” Eresian laughed. Arione smirked. He shifted onto his side to see her better. “What other things do we do together?”

“Mm... running. Lots and lots of running,” she said thoughtfully. “Not sure why there’s so much running but yeah. And we travel the universe through time in a TARDIS, and-“

“TARDIS?”

“Our time capsule.”

“A strange name.”

“Time And Relative Dimensions In Space.” 

“Clever.” 

“You certainly thought so. But that’s why I’ve seen so many different worlds and times. We travel for fun just as much as for research. Just to see all that there is to see. It’s a privilege just to be able to see the beauty of creation.”

“Arjin truly outdid herself. She and the rest of the Menti Cel-“ he trailed off, eyeing his companion with a worried look, but she was merely observing a fluffy cloud that looked vaguely like a fledershrew without any reaction. He cleared his throat. “Ahm. Anything else?”

“Um... we would always spend time together in the library, and either we would tell each other something about our lives before we met one another or you liked to read out loud. Just... a nice way to wind down after a long day.” Her nose scrunched in thought. “I think you took me dancing a few times too.” 

“I... look forward to all of that,” Eresian murmured. Arione moved onto her side to face him, her eyes large and brilliant. Their noses were only a few inches apart, he realized, and he felt heat coloring his cheeks. She smiled softly before propping herself up on an arm to get into a sitting position. 

“Come on.”

“W-Where are we going?” He asked, confused. He then squeaked as she hauled him with frightening strength to his feet upon accepting her proffered hand. 

“I’d like to explore the grounds of the estate, if that’s all right.” 

“T-that’s- with me?”

“Uh, Yeah. Who else would I be going with?”

“Right. Of course. I- that would be wonderful.” 

They were about halfway down the steep hill when Eresian tripped; with their hands clasped together he ended up pulling Arione with him, and when they rolled to a stop at the bottom in a patch of heather she was partially draped on top of his back while he lay flat on his stomach with a nose full of the earthy heather scent. She was laughing, something that made him feel better, and with a playful huff he shifted underneath her so that his shoulder nudged her solidly into the heather next to him. She came up spitting pieces of the foliage out of her mouth grinning, and shaking his head he helped her to her feet before leading her to the stables where they kept their Elupáfis. 

“He seems fond of her,” Faerven commented quietly as he approached his mother in her study. Layana nodded, not turning away from the landscape window as she watched her second son and their guest ride across the grounds of the estate. 

“And she him,” she replied. 

“Are you concerned?”

“...No. I simply worry that she might not be able to reciprocate his feelings because of her... lineage.”

“So it’s true then. She is one of the Menti Celesti?” Layana turned sharply to regard her son, who instantly regretted saying anything.

“She made mention of the fact that her mother was Vela,” the matriarch said carefully. At Faerven’s sharp inhale she nodded. “Exactly. This information is not to leave this room. Understood?”

“Yes, mother.” 

“Good. If the Pythia were to discover her I fear what would happen.”

“Things are getting worse, aren’t they?”

“Indeed they are, Faerven. Pythia herself has been tightening her grip on our society’s freedoms. Soon I very much fear we won’t be able to organize and speak freely without breaking some sort of statute.” 

“What have you seen?” Faerven asked carefully. Layana’s silver eyes briefly burned gold - in much the same way that Arione’s did he noted - before fading as she observed the timelines. 

“Nothing is ever certain. But there is a choice fast approaching that will either see us rise to greatness or succumb to the dark.” Layana let out a soft chuckle. “I’m surprised that Pythia has not had our bloodline eradicated for carrying the Hero trait without joining her inner circle.”

“The House of Voranaer is too respectable and prestigious for her to do that,” Faerven protested. 

“Maybe. Maybe now, but what about later? She only continues to build her strength.” 


	3. Asheun

“When do you have to return to the Academy?” Arione asked as they sprawled lazily under the shade of a silver tree. The day was unusually hot and they were taking refuge from the spiking temperatures in the estate’s orchard, having brought with them a picnic which had been finished ages ago and they were currently gorging themselves on the bounty above them. Eresian idly whacked a nearby tree trunk before answering; the branches shivered before dropping ripe bronze-colored fruit that Arione said tasted like spearmint and lemon onto the soft red grass. He collected a few and tossed one to her.

“About a week or so from now,” he sighed. “I’d much rather stay here with you.” 

The past few months of his seasonal holiday had been wonderful. Arione had steadily been remembering more and more from her past life - although specific information continued to elude her - and his mother had taken it upon herself to tutor her in the current knowledge of their people. She had been strangely lacking in both their history and present culture aside from understanding the larger points of interest; something that only helped to validate her claim that she had come from a future Gallifrey. The rest of the family had finally gotten over their initial shock and wariness of her and were now comfortable in her presence and the younger children had found that she was a lot of fun. She knew several entertaining games they had never heard of before that they had begged her to teach them and she had readily obliged. 

But as for Eresian, he had more reason than his family realized to want to drop out of the Academy and remain home. 

Arione pouted at the information as he sliced the fruit and plopped a piece in his mouth before a slightly wicked grin spread across her face. Propping herself up on an elbow she tilted his chin up, kissing him gently on the lips as she tugged on his tufty sienna hair. He hummed in delight, whimpering as she withdrew before purring as she trailed a few kisses along the underside of his jawline. She suddenly kissed him hard on the lips and he gasped as her tongue darted into his mouth to quickly and efficiently steal the fruit he had been attempting to eat before withdrawing with a triumphant expression on her face. She laughed as he growled in mock protest, slicing another piece of fruit and determinedly chewing on it before swallowing to prevent it being stolen like the last one had. 

“Minx,” he muttered before giving up on the carving and just taking a large bite of the fruit. She raised an eyebrow before biting into her own. 

“Yeah very original, never heard that before,” she retorted sarcastically. He pouted at that and grumbled about messed up timelines. 

The more Eresian spent time with her the easier it became to see the woman underneath the goddess-like exterior. When she was relaxed her accent became less refined and proper, lower class inflections in her speech that captivated him by the way they emerged during unique moments where he could see the human girl she must have once been. He found himself becoming increasingly curious about that girl, as she was the one he had- would- fall in love with. And it was the glimpses of that girl that had caused him to fall for Arione as she was now, and he had fallen _hard_. It didn’t matter to him that she wasn’t Gallifreyan in the slightest, and he somehow doubted that the influence of their being soulmates had any deciding sway in how that had come to pass. She was just... he had no words. 

“Do you think...” Eresian looked up at her where she was still propped slightly above him on an elbow, broken out of his train of thought. When she saw that she had his undivided attention she began again. “Do you think you could take me into the nearby city before you have to go back?” He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to wait a month or so?” He asked. “You’ve only just gotten my family to... not act odd around you and... I thought maybe you would want to give yourself a break before subjecting yourself to the judgements of people who don’t understand.” Her gaze was steady as she looked at him.

“I can’t hide from the world forever, Eresian. I know it’s a risk. If Pythia or one of her people finds me... but I want to _explore_. Someday in your future you’re going to tell me that I’ve got stardust in my veins. I wasn’t made to sit still.” At his somewhat dumbfounded and hesitant expression she sighed. “Look, I’ll ask Midia to help me dress to be inconspicuous. Surely you can trust one of your sisters to make sure I’ll be fine?” 

“...Okay,” he conceded. “But only if Kassia helps too.”

“Deal.” 

Needless to say it still took about two full days of endless pestering on her part before he caved, and even though she had gotten what she wanted Arione was still apprehensive as Midia and Kassia entered her chambers the next morning; as the youngest and eldest of Eresian’s baby sisters it was interesting to note that both carried themselves as equals, and the odd sight helped to calm her. 

Midia’s rust brown cloud of shoulder length hair bobbed enthusiastically up and down as she searched through the wardrobe for suitable apparel, light blue eyes alight with enthusiasm for her quest. Her elder sister kept impatiently flicking strands of long curly strawberry blonde hair out of her silver eyes as she did her best with the shorter shimmering locks of Arione’s own rich golden hair and applied a subtle makeup that made it difficult to tell that her skin was actually glowing. The right touch of lip gloss made it look like her lips were _supposed_ to be gleaming, and a set of carefully-constructed colored lenses had been crafted for her eyes. They were a sort of golden orange, but beautiful if false nonetheless. As for the hair... 

It had grown out during the last few months and ended just past Arione’s shoulders, but it was possible for Kassia to braid it into a sophisticated bun on her head in such a way that it would not be noticed when they were finished. 

Midia made a timely appearance with a beautiful burgundy set of Gallifreyan robes that were accented with navy, and as a result the head covering she set about carefully arranging was navy with burgundy accents. The ensemble was completed with long navy gloves that ended at the elbow out of precaution and burgundy soft leather heeled boots that went to the knee. When all was said and done they stood in front of the mirror and the two sisters let out satisfied sighs at their handiwork, Arione smiling gratefully for the disguise. She tilted her head slightly as she observed her eyes, frowning. 

“So, what do you think?” Midia asked eagerly. 

“I love everything about it, honest,” Arione replied with a short laugh. “It makes it easier to imagine what I must have looked like when I was...” she trailed off, no one quite daring to break the awkward silence. “Anyway, the colored lenses. Could they be any color?"

“Yeah, I’ve got the device to change the settings right here,” Kassia mumbled as she fiddled with the device. “I tried getting the color as close to what your eyes actually look like without them- you know, glowing- but I can change them to anything you want. Do you have a suggestion?”

“A sort of... marmalade brown,” Arione suggested, an odd instinctual memory flitting about in the recesses of her mind. “Like, light golden brown. Just a hint of golden flecks in them.” Kassia nodded and a few moments later the color changed, leaving the two Gallifreyan girls gasping softly at how... _Right_ that looked on their friend and house guest. Arione, for her part, was looking at her reflection with wide eyes. 

“Is this what you looked like before?” Kassia asked gently. Arione nodded, and gratefully felt a comforting squeeze on her hand as Midia grasped it in her own. She’s never had sisters before unless one counted Sarah, but it was nice. That earned an internal frown though it didn’t show externally. Who was Sarah? 

Sarah... Sarah Jane... Sarah Jane Smith. A Journalist, the best older sister she’d never had, and a close friend and former companion of the Doctor. 

That sparked new questions. Who was the Doctor? She felt affection for him, oddly enough, but when she tried to focus on his involvement in her life the memories were stubbornly absent. 

“This is perfect,” Arione murmured happily. She turned to give both girls a tight hug which they enthusiastically reciprocated and then practically skipped out of her chambers to meet Eresian at the front of the large and ornate entry of the estate mansion. 

He was at the bottom of the stairs looking nervous and impatient, both emotions that Arione was entirely familiar with when it came to him, and rolled her eyes when she noticed that he was bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet. 

“Apprehensive much?” She asked teasingly as she descended the steps. He swung around at the sound of her voice, eyes widening as he took in her appearance. “Think it’ll do the trick?”

“Some trick,” Eresian breathed, taking slow and careful steps until he was standing in front of her. “You look...”

“Human?”

“...Yeah...” 

“Some part of me remembers that this is what I looked like, before...” Arione shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip. “Do you... do you like it?”

“You’re always beautiful to me,” he murmured softly, taking her hands in his. He glanced down at the gloves as if they had personally offended him. “Although these will have to go I think.” She chuckled at that but he could see the unspoken gratitude in her startlingly human eyes. “Ready to go?”

“Mmhmm.” With her hand resting in the crook of his arm he escorted her outside to the streamlined and touchscreen transport and they headed into the city. During the ride Arione leaned against the glass watching the landscape fly by, her eyes flicking back and forth with interest, and Eresian couldn’t help but smile. He still had doubts about this little venture, but...

His soulmate smiling was more than worth it.

As they got closer to the outskirts he slowed the transport to a halt and rustled about for a few moments in the depths of his hated robes before he let out a soft exclamation of triumph and withdrew a head scarf of his own. Arione raised an eyebrow at him and he grimaced.

“You might have noticed that my hair is a rather odd color for my people,” he said. She nodded. 

“Yeah, it’s just you, your mum, and brother that are properly ginger. Although Layana did say that the Pythia are like that too.”

“It signifies that we carry the Hero gene,” he explained. “The ability to see all of time all at once. Hero, it’s derived from our most ancient dialect, Archaic Gallifreyan. _Haęon_. Means ‘Sighted’. I know that doesn’t sound so difficult to you-“ there was an awkward pause as they remembered several awkward dinner conversations where Arione had accidentally made it known that she was capable of far more than Layana was without even trying- “but there are very few among my people who possess that ability. And while my carrying the gene does not necessarily mean I will become the next Hero of my bloodline when my mother passes seeing as my brother is the most likely candidate as the firstborn, I still need to be careful with the Pythia about.” 

Arione opened her mouth to say something and he noted with interest that, though synthetic, the golden flecks in her marmalade brown lenses seemed to flash a smoldering gold all the same. She seemed to think better of what she was about to say and snapped her jaw shut with a slight click of teeth meeting teeth to nod and then went back to looking out the window with shoulders tenser than they had been before. Eresian frowned, unease settling in the pit of his stomach. He debated with himself for a few moments as he adjusted the scarf carefully to cover his tufty sienna locks on whether he wanted to know what she had seen or not before deciding it would be for the best if he didn’t. 

Satisfied with his arrangements he tapped Arione on the shoulder and pointed to his apparel. 

“Well, what do you think?” He asked. She rolled her eyes. 

_“Lawrence of Arabia_ ,” she muttered with amusement before turning back to the window. He frowned in confusion at the comment - she had been making multiple pop culture references from 20th and 21st Century England, Earth, recently which had both confirmed their suspicions that she was originally from there and greatly confounded them - but let the matter drop. Shaking his head slightly he started the transport back up and continued into the city. 

Gallifrey, or The Capital as it was more colloquially known, might have been the seat of the Pythia in the Panopticon but the true hub of influence was the second largest city Arcadia. It was the center of the arts, of literature, of mercantile trade and learning. The pinnacle of their existence began and ended in Arcadia, and as such it was a beacon of shared experience the likes of which could only be compared to very, very few other civilization hubs. 

And it had nothing on the small village about an hour off from the estate that they were currently arriving at. Asheun was small even by Earth standards, about the size of an English village, and Arione was entirely in love with it. Due to the large amount of orchards and hunting lands in the region it was little more than a trading post, but there were a few cottages situated beside the deep river than ran through. Numerous arching bridges crossed over the deep channel and small boats traveled underneath them; instead of a main road the river was used for the heavy traffic. There were several individually owned stores where goods could be procured, a surprisingly advanced hospital with the planet’s latest medical technologies inside, and near the center of the hub resided a beautiful open-air pavilion that housed five stone carvings of the Menti Celesti and had incense and flower petals laid before their bases. There was no seat of government for the tiny village due to the fact that it had been placed under the regional authority of their House, Voranaer, and thus any such grievances would be addressed in the matriarch’s study. Large community debates would be held in the formal dining room, and those of the family residing on the estate would make themselves scarce for the evening to provide as few distractions as possible.

Arione gasped softly as the transport slowed to a halt, artificially human eyes widening in wonder as she slowly extracted herself from the craft and came to stand on the side of the most-used land path in the area. Most of the buildings were only one or two stories - although a few three-story shops and of course the five-story hospital rose above the others like irregular spikes - and were made of sculpted stone and colored glass. The red plains of the Wild Endeavor came right up to the outskirts which were bordered by a wall made of stacked intentionally rough-hewn rocks of various minerals and sediments; it was more decorative than practical and made it easier to distinguish between the unowned plains and the well-kept and trimmed grass of Asheun. So the plains bordered the tiny town in a wide expanse on three sides and on the fourth was a steep cliff face where the deep river became a waterfall though it had a wide-grated wall to prevent any water-borne transport and thus people from falling to their deaths. 

The cliff was the result of a drop from the plateau they were situated on to the abrupt lowering of sea level with a wide lake at the bottom of the waterfall, the river beginning again and it could be seen glinting in the twin suns all the way to the distant horizon which had the faintest trace of silver where the ocean met the coast. That particular area was prolific in the silver-leaved trees common to the planet as the soil was more fertile. Everything was situated under a burnt orange sky that turned deep indigo in the evening, and on the northern horizon could be seen the mountains of Solace and Solitude. The estate, in fact, resided on the gentle slopes of said range and the House was built partially into a steeper section of the cliffs so that it held the advantage of height for observation in the event of a hostile occasion. As a result it was carved of the stone on the back side, the terraces having been flattened of earth, and unusually the House itself was constructed of beautiful wood and glass mixed with poured cobble support columns assembled from the rarer rocks found near the ocean. The front rested at the top of a gentle hill, the orchards and the rolling hills spread out before it. The entire estate was visible from the front windows and thus the matriarch’s study occupied the second-story room just above the recessed doorway to observe it all from the large landscape windows. 

In this way both the estate and the village of Asheun were unique from other points of civilization on Gallifrey; most, such as the Capital and Arcadia, had sprung up high in the wide snow-capped mountain valleys or along the coastlines. The Drylands were sparsely inhabited aside from the miners seeking to extract precious gems and ores that occurred generously in the sandy terrain and the majority of the landmass of the planet was covered in either scrub or grassland biomes with very few substantial forests. It was really only the distance separating the planet from the heat of the twin suns that allowed for vegetative growth at all, so Gallifreyans considered themselves lucky. 

So, yes. Asheun might have been unique compared to the majority of settlements, but it was nothing to write home about. The size alone discouraged it from being a destination spot, and the fact that it was far from easy transportation channels deeper in the grasslands only added to that mindset. 

Eresian grimaced slightly. It was, aside from his reluctance to risk someone discovering Arione’s god-like... well, everything... yet another reason he’d dug his heels in so much over taking her into the nearest city. He had been afraid she was disappointed. 

Turning to her to apologize for the rather unremarkable locale he stopped with his mouth slightly open, the words dying half-formed on his lips when he saw the utter delight and happiness brightening her features. 

“Happy?” He asked softly.

“Oh Eresian, it’s _beautiful_ ,” Arione breathed. She turned to him, radiant in a light of her own making that was somehow managing to shine through the makeup that had been applied because it burned more brightly under the influence of positive emotions. She quickly skirted around the skimmer they had taken to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him quickly on the lips, drawing back with a giggle as happiness danced in the marmalade golden-brown lenses of her eyes. Eresian couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. They linked hands habitually and walked into Asheun through the perpetually open main gates, her head resting against his shoulder as she pressed closely against his side. 

They received few odd looks from the people going about their daily business seeing as most knew who they were or at least where they came from and seeing as the fashion trend of the village was to keep the bright suns from burning them the pair hardly stood out in their head coverings. For the most part Arione seemed content to just hold his hand and take in her surroundings with a quiet wonder that made Eresian consider the possibility that she saw far more than he did in the familiar weathered buildings he had spent the first 230 years of his life maneuvering around, but there were a few occasions where she would slow to examine items in window displays or market stalls before moving on. She called it, upon his questioning look, ‘window shopping,’ which she explained was shopping without a specific item in mind casually on the lookout for something that might catch her eye. It was a common practice on Earth from the time period she was from and thus it was little wonder that she seemed so skilled at it now. Though he didn’t understand the reason for it, Eresian was more than happy to walk with her on this aimless quest if it meant he got to spend as much alone time as possible without someone from his family dragging one of them off to go do something. 

It wasn’t until she was examining some jewelry that he took special interest, noting the pieces she lingered on more than others and trying to ascertain her favored style before he saw a pendant that took his breath away. It was perfect for her, truly; shards of finely cut white point star diamond had been arranged to form the loose white petals of Gallifrey’s native Arkytior flowers and rested on a white gold setting that formed the stem and single leaf. Small pieces of bronze had been fused to the stem to form thorns. The entire pendant was small but charming, catching the light in just the right way, and he was certain that it would simply shine with her ethereal glow when it was placed around her neck. It was affixed to a short white gold chain and his calculating mind determined that this would make the pendant rest squarely in the center of her chest just below the line of her clavicle. 

He bought it without a second thought while she moved on to a selection of rather gorgeous silks, fingering the velvet drawstring pouch it was held in just as lovingly as she trailed a temporarily gloveless set of fingers over the bolts of expensive fabric. The gift was immediately shoved into the recesses of his disliked customary robes as she turned to him with a radiant smile that was impossible not to return. 

There wasn’t a fair going on by any stretch of the imagination but that didn’t stop Arione from enjoying a local delicacy being sold on the perimeter of the large diamond-like quad of the city, or the park, where the most important festivals were celebrated as the open-air pavilion housing the shrine for the Menti Celesti was located at its center and thus solidified the allusion to the belief that the goddesses were central to daily life. Eresian good-naturedly accepted a bite of the sweet confectionary, grinning broadly when she used her thumb to swipe some wayward crumbs from the corner of his mouth and deciding that he’d never been happier. 

The mood sobered as they entered the covered yet open temple to pay respects to the goddesses. Arione gave equal attention to the small statues for Arjin, Thana, Zeruiah, and Morai, but when she came to Vela’s she slowly sank to sit with her legs folded underneath her and her hands clasped loosely in her lap. 

“Arione?” Eresian murmured softly. She ignored him save for gently tugging on his arm as she looked intensely at the statuette and after a few moments he hesitantly copied her motions. Then, she tugged off her gloves and placed her hands at the base of the statuette. Nothing happened for a few moments.

Suddenly, Arkytior petals resting before the statue sprang from their bowl and drifted almost lazily through the air around them. He felt his respiratory bypass kick in as the statue’s eyes glowed a burning gold and dumbfoundedly noted that Arione’s mirrored that as even the colored lenses she was wearing were unable to repress that blazing energy. Not that he had been on the fence about believing that Arione’s mother was a goddess - after all, he practically worshipped the ground she tread on - if he had had any doubts this erased them entirely. Eresian had never seen something like this before and it both intrigued and frightened him. Rocketing to his feet he glanced around uneasily worried that someone would notice the rather odd things happening in the pavilion, but not a soul was in sight. 

After an excruciatingly long time waiting for it to end the wind died down, the flower petals drifting back into the incense bowl as the glow faded both from the statue’s and Arione’s eyes. She looked up at him and flashed a soft smile when she saw his discomfort, slowly standing in a graceful rise to brush the dust off of her clothing. 

“Bye Mum,” she whispered as she accepted his hand and let him lead her away. “You okay?” She asked.

“Hm? Me?” He squeaked, looking at her with wide eyes. She took one look at him and burst out laughing. 

“You don’t have to worry about it,” she chuckled. “Mum likes you.”

“Well that’s- wait, she does?” That received an amused raise of the eyebrow and he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “Ah. Tha-that’s good. Always good to be in the favor of your society’s main goddess.” 

Nudging his arm with her shoulder she rolled her eyes and gently tugged him after her to explore more of the village. There wasn’t much left to see but it took them to the sunset when she surprised him with the idea of setting up a picnic on the plateau’s edge to look out over the valley below them as the light turned the silver trees into a forest on fire. It was... he’d have been lying if he’d said that the words ‘intimately romantic’ hadn’t crossed his mind. Considering that it was a perfect occasion to present her with the necklace he had gotten her as well he immediately agreed, and so as the blood orange rays of the twin suns slowly dipped over the horizon lighting the copse below they sat on a blanket enjoying one another’s company and the fresh clean air of a world far from the influence of the major cities. 

“I have something for you,” Eresian said nervously as he fumbled for the velvet drawstring pouch in his robes. He finally succeeded in locating it, flashing her a sheepish look as he drew it into the open and handed it to her. Arione lifted an eyebrow in amusement at the clear display of anxiety but said nothing, choosing instead to loosen the drawstrings and carefully deposit the gift into her waiting palm. She let out a gasp of stunned delight as her gaze settled on the pendant which was catching the light of the frankly magnificent sunset and reflecting it in an explosion of tiny sparkling beams. 

“Eresian...”

“Allow me, please?” She nodded, spellbound, as he gently picked it up and pulled her headscarf off to expose her neck. He allowed himself to linger at the nape as his nimble fingers attempted to triumph over the tricky clasp, the tips lightly brushing the skin there as she inhaled sharply at the ghostly touch. When it had been snapped into place he rested his cheek against her temple, looking down and over her shoulder to where she was fingering the unique pendant as it rested high on her chest at the clavicle bone. “Perfectly perfect.”

“I love you,” Arione whispered. Eresian felt his hearts stutter at those three simple words as he kissed her on the temple, sienna tufts hooking loosely on the braided bun of her shimmering golden hair. 

“I love you too, darling.”


	4. Festival of Colors

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by his fellow peers that he would much rather have been elsewhere when Eresian returned to the Academy a week or so after the trip to Asheun. Having to constantly wear the formal robes and necessary headscarf to hide his sienna ginger hair aside when attending to his studies so near the Pythia seat of power in the Capital was one thing, but hardly any different from the other years he had gone. 

“What do you think is wrong with him?” Peylix asked quietly as they watched their friend trying in vain to read through his assignments. He was sprawled on his stomach underneath a blossom tree, the petals catching on the fabric of his headwear as he had the book open before him and a notebook filled with sketches indecipherable due to the angle and distance. He was clearly more interested in his drawings than the text which was surprising, because he had always been an attentive student.

Rassilon narrowed sharp steely green eyes at his friend in contemplation. 

“Do you think he’s sick, or maybe a member of his House...”

“He would have told us,” Rassilon replied tersely. “No, this is something different.” 

“It’s just... he hardly wrote last season and now-“

“Why don’t you go ask him if you’re so concerned?” Wide hazel eyes turned to look at him.

“I- I’m not good at-“ Peylix shrugged helplessly, running his fingers through long, curly dark blond hair and wincing as he snagged them on the black ribbon he’d used to tie it back. “Look, you know me. I can’t read people. I’m better at understanding machines. Chemistry. The numbers.”

“Fine,” Rassilon muttered half-heartedly as he heaved himself off of the low wall they had been leaning against to saunter over to their friend. Eresian glanced up at him momentarily before sighing and focusing on his studies. It didn’t go unnoticed by Rassilon that the notebook was smoothly and surreptitiously closed before he got a good look at its contents. 

“Hello, Rassilon.”

“Eresian. Working on anything interesting?” Eresian shrugged noncommittally, looking bored. “I take that as a ‘no.’” 

“What are you really doing here?” Rassilon smirked, sighing as he sat on the grass with exaggerated dainty movements that resembled a particularly snooty cat. All he really needed was to start preening the dirt from his robes, really. 

“I’ve hardly heard from you all summer. And seeing as I _know_ that you’ve been getting my letters...” there was a meaningful pause. “...I’m left to wonder what it was that so captivated your attention that you barely responded to them. Is it a girl?” Eresian let out a groan and dropped his forehead down onto his book, letting his elbows which had been bracing him up slightly give out. Seeing this, Peylix came over to join them. Rassilon let out a laugh.

“What’s going on?” Peylix asked.

“Eresian’s enamored,” Rassilon snickered. “Are the two of you courting?” They received a small exasperated nod but the object of their amusement didn’t deign to lift his head from the textbook he’d dropped it into.

“Ah,” Peylix sighed wistfully. “Figures that you’d find a girlfriend, you were always popular with the ladies. Have you been drawing her in your journal?”

“One way to find out,” Rassilon said as he snatched the leather-bound diary. He ignored Eresian’s protests and easily avoided the desperate attempts to get the private property back as he opened it to the bookmark, eyebrows raising slightly in interest. 

There were numerous grayscale pencil sketches of a young woman about their age with very short light hair and intense eyes wearing any number of outfits and judging by the different angles of the body and face taken at different times when they had spent time together. The more recent-looking ones had shoulder-length hair with a very gentle wave to it that perfectly framed her face, and there were several depictions of a rather beautiful necklace off on the side or resting against her clavicle. There were also two recurring images of a trail of stardust leading to a larger star set on the right in a pair and a flower that looked very much like an Arkytior with a timeline wrapped around it. Rassilon rolled his eyes as Omega peered over his shoulder and whistled. The sketches really were quite beautiful. 

“Oh that’s just not fair,” he whined. “She’s _gorgeous_.” 

“Indeed,” Rassilon agreed, his gaze tracing her figure appreciatively in one of the rarer full body drawings where the dresses were cinched and flared in all the right places. “I wouldn’t mind meeting her myself.” Eresian let out a warning growl that rumbled deep in his chest and couldn’t be mistaken for anything else than what it was. _Back off_. 

Peylix raised an eyebrow at the sound but graciously nodded in understanding. Rassilon made a pleased sort of snicker at the territorial display and ran a hand through his short raven hair to get his bangs back in their proper place. It was an obvious movement of preening that made Eresian growl again, this time in a more threatening manner as his shoulders stiffened. For someone who rarely felt the need to be confrontational it was extremely out of character.

“This isn’t like the short relationships I’ve had before Rassilon,” he said in a cool and dangerous voice.

“Serious about her then?” Rassilon smiled in a cat got the canary smirk. “Then I really need to meet her.”

“Just once can you not steal our dates?” Peylix complained. He was becoming irritated. “It’s not funny and you don’t care about them.”

“Neither do you.”

“Maybe not _seriously_ , but I am interested and care about their welfare!” 

“Stay away from my soulmate,” Eresian snapped as he gathered his belongings, ripped the journal from Rassilon’s fingers with startling force, and stalked off. Peylix and Rassilon watched their friend leave before exchanging a startled glance.

“ _Soulmate!?_ ” They echoed simultaneously, gazes flickering incredulously back toward him as he disappeared through a doorway. 

“Are you all right?” Peylix asked quietly as he slid into a seat next to his friend. The lecture hall was still filling with other students and the speaker hadn’t arrived yet. Eresian sighed, slumping back in his chair as he ran a hand through tufty golden sienna locks.

“I just- what is _wrong_ with that guy!?” He hissed. Peylix rolled his eyes.

“I think it would be easier to ask what _isn’t_ wrong with him,” he muttered. Eresian let out a chuckle at that and Peylix smiled approvingly as the tension drained out of his frame. “Just remember that he thinks it’s a game even if we don’t like how he plays sometimes.” 

“Does he?” Eresian countered with a meaningful look. “He knows exactly what he’s doing, Peylix. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“What are we supposed to do about it then? He’s still our friend and he has plenty of redeeming qualities.”

“I know. It gets on my nerves is all.” A soft smile. “And you’d feel differently if he went after your soulmate. Trust me on that.” 

“Have you developed an empathic connection yet?” Peylix asked eagerly, scooting his chair closer and lowering his voice to a whisper. The soft smile grew into a wide grin at the excitement thrumming through his friend’s body as he tapped his fingers on the table.

“Not yet but we’ve had the temporary ones, which is part of the reason I can’t stand not being near her at the moment.” He leaned forward in his seat and added conspiratorially, “My sisters are coming up to Arcadia for the festival this month and she’s coming with them. Like to tag along?” 

“Which sisters?” Peylix asked immediately, his face going red as he blushed in embarrassment. 

“Unless one of them turns out to be your match back off,” Eresian laughed. Peylix rolled his eyes and grumbled good-naturedly. “Those are my baby sisters.” 

“And four out of the five are very beautiful grown adults.” 

“Shut up.” 

“What else can you tell me about her?”

“Her name is Arione, and she has beautiful blonde hair. These- these stunning golden eyes, and this smile that just- mm. She’s about thirty-seven years my senior too, but neither of us mind very much. And she likes...”

~*~§~*~

Arione adjusted her headscarf impatiently as she stepped out into the busy markets of Arcadia, inhaling deeply to catch the competing aromas of an impossibly large and diverse marketplace. With the added frenzy of the upcoming festival for Arjin it was only more insane and chaotic. 

“If you feel overwhelmed just tell us,” Teanai said reassuringly as they began winding their way through the stalls frantically attempting to sell wares. “The first time to one of these is usually a bit... intense.” 

“I love it,” Arione laughed. “This is amazing.” Her artificial marmalade brown eyes swept over the sea of people as she sought out one in particular. 

“He’ll be here somewhere,” Zahnah sighed exasperatedly. “Honestly, you two are so sweet on each other it’s giving me cavities.” She got an eye roll from her four sisters and their House guest. “What? It’s true.” 

“And you don’t want to see if any of his fellow peers are single?” Riven countered pointedly. Zahnah felt her cheeks heat up and grumbled something about going to look at jewelry before leaving with an exasperated Kassia. 

“This is only my second time here,” Midia admitted as she bounced excitedly on her toes. her young personality as a minor clicked better than the elder sisters’ did with Arione’s own even though she was a few years younger than their eldest brother Faerven. They had become close friends rather quickly and did most everything together- when Eresian wasn’t around, that is. Midia didn’t mind much though, because she was hoping that sooner or later the girl she had all but adopted as another sister would become her sister for real. 

“Eresian!” Arione suddenly gasped. Riven and Teanai rolled their eyes as she took off running but smiled; Midia giggled and trailed after her elder sisters as they began looking through the market stalls. 

Eresian felt the air expelled from his lungs and bypass rather unexpectedly as Arione slammed into his torso, and laughing he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet to swing them about a few times in a circle. 

“Ooh I missed you!” She squeaked, pecking him on the lips. They both shivered with pleasure as their tactile contact established another temporary empathic connection.

“Missed you too,” he chuckled. 

“Who’s your friend?”

“Ah.” Eresian gestured for Peylix to come forward without letting go of Arione. “Arione, Peylix. Peylix, Arione.”

“Hi,” Arione murmured shyly as she burrowed slightly closer - if that were possible - to her soulmate’s chest to listen to his thundering heartsbeat. 

“Hello,” Peylix said a touch nervously.

“Are you okay?”

“Peylix loses proper verbal manners when it comes to meeting beautiful women,” Eresian explained with a chuckle. Arione rolled her eyes, tugging on his hand and gently dragging him into the festival. 

“I’ll just go alone then shall I?” Peylix asked sarcastically. 

“Go and find Zahnah!” Arione laughed. “She’s angling for a date!” 

“But I’m not allowed to!”

“Why not?”

“Eresian-“ 

“Consider yourself in protective custody. He can’t do anything to you unless he goes through me first.” Peylix opened his mouth to respond and then closed it again with a smirk as Eresian rolled his eyes. 

“See you later then. Nice meeting you, milady.”

“You as well!” 

“Did you have to?” Eresian sighed as he allowed himself to be pulled into the chaos of people. He could feel Arione’s happiness bubbling to the surface through their empathic connection and it somehow managed to escape his notice that he was wearing a sappy smile because of it. Arione nudged him gently in the ribs with her elbow before suddenly turning away from the main area of the market to pull him into a secluded alcove that happened to be behind a stall and thus entirely cut off from view. 

“Wanted some alone time,” she whispered as she tugged his headscarf loose and kissed him on the lips. Humming his approval he mirrored her actions, breaking out of the kiss when he could sense she was running out of air to admire her. They hadn’t seen each other in six months and during that time her hair had continued to grow; it easily fell past her shoulders to end in her middle back now just under the shoulder blades, the soft wave cascading in shimmering gold. 

“Have I mentioned how much I like your hair long?” He murmured. Without giving her a chance to reply he swept in for another kiss. She retaliated by digging her fingers into his own tufty locks, tugging gently as she brought his head down to make it easier for her to kiss him. He was purring now as she melted against him and he in turn slumped against the wall of the alcove they were hiding in, their empathic connection deepening the experience. 

“Can I just come home and skip the rest of the term?” He mumbled when they reluctantly parted for air. 

“Your mum would never forgive you.”

“No? We let her plan the wedding and name one of our daughters after her and she might.”

“You haven’t even proposed yet,” Arione said softly, chiming laughter underlying her light and affectionate tone. Eresian made a sound that sounded vaguely like a growl but more akin to a sigh.

“I’ll have to rectify that one of these days,” he whispered into her ear. 

“Yeah? Wait, ‘one of?’ How many kids do you think we’ll be having exactly?”

“Mm... As many as you’d let me get away with, I think.” 

“Buy me a ring first.” He pulled away enough to regard her curiously and she tilted her head in equal confusion. “What?”

“It’s just that... rings aren’t really a tradition among my people because the telepathic bonds are so obvious,” he explained. Worry was creeping into his voice. “In fact, until you brought it up it hadn’t even occurred to me. I have absolutely no idea what I would be getting when it comes to style, stone, cut...” 

“Well, telepathic bonds aren’t a thing for _my_ people because aside from me we aren’t telepathic,” she reminded him gently. To his utter bewilderment she was more amused than upset. “Tell you what, we’ll compromise. If you get me a ring I’ll help you find the right one.” 

Eresian managed to deliver a relieved smile before the full weight of her expectant gaze hit him. 

“Wait- right now?” He squeaked. “We’re getting engaged right now?” 

“Why not?” Arione asked innocently. She was looking at him with wide brown eyes that somehow despite her best efforts still sparkled with raw eternity, her lashes fluttering ever so slightly for emphasis, and he felt any lingering doubt melt away like morning frost in sunshine. It was a simple conclusion to come to, really. No matter how long he delayed the inevitable his feelings for her wouldn’t change. 

“Why not indeed,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her temple. She giggled then pulled away and tugged his arm as she led him back into the crowd. That seemed to be a theme, he reflected. She had a habit of dragging him wherever she took a fancy to going and he was more than happy to let her do so. In their excitement neither one of them remembered to put their headscarves back on. 

In the end they managed to find a vendor who wasn’t too busy - or rather the moment he saw the goddess and man with the ginger hair he shooed his current potential clients away with vigor - and explained what they were after. He frowned in confusion but rifled around in his stock before pulling out a tray with several different ring styles for both men and women. Arione smiled at the sight, cooing softly over certain sets but refraining from touching anything until she found something more to her style. Eresian quickly noticed - and apparently the vendor did too - that while her intent was to select an engagement ring she wasn’t after anything particularly flashy or ostentatious. Rather her focus remained curiously on a selection of bands with colored gems or stones and metal bases not usually associated with formal jewelry; the styles were practical and simplistic but beautiful all the same in the arrangement, and with a soft exclamation of triumph she picked up a particular band to show it to him.

This particular band resembled two twisted ropes twined tightly round one another, one in buffed platinum and the other in a midnight blue sapphire. It looked nothing like an engagement ring as Eresian had been led to believe they had more diamond and elaborate design, but somehow it suited her perfectly and couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. Arione bit her lip, contemplating something, before turning to him with a smile. 

“What are you planning?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion as he felt her gently brush her empathic presence against his own in a caress. 

“I was thinking... maybe you’d like to get one to match?” She asked quietly. Her gaze skittered away from his as her face blushed in an uncharacteristic display of shy embarrassment. The sight warmed his hearts and he couldn’t resist the sappy grin that brightened his features as he gently brought a set of fingers under her chin and tilted it toward him at an upward angle. He then kissed her lightly on the lips and pulled away still wearing the smile.

“I’d love to,” he chuckled. “But I’ve never been one for jewelry. Any suggestions?” If possible, Arione’s face blushed even more as she scuffed the toe of her left shoe in the dust of the paved street. 

“I chose mine because... because it reminds me a lot of what your telepathic presence feels like,” she confessed. Eresian’s eyes widened as he looked at the ring with new perspective and wonder. The platinum silver, the deep blue sapphire... 

With that knowledge he turned to the selection of men’s rings and focused on remembering what Arione’s telepathic signature felt like. That meant bypassing any metal base not gold and narrowed his options considerably, and after a few minutes of looking he smiled and held up a simple band. It was rich buffed gold with boxed slightly rounded edges and a flat surface inlaid with a thin ring of white point star diamond sparkling in the exact center; her presence had a thin vein of white heat in a sea of gold, and they matched beautifully. Considering the two bands he realized just how well they complimented one another. She was the warmth to his frost and he was the refreshing coolness to her agonizing burn. She was the light to his dark and he was the shade to her sun. 

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment before Eresian broke off and hastily paid the vendor who wasn’t entirely sure what he had just witnessed but was somehow aware that something unique and immeasurable had transpired all the same. They quickly left with both rings laid on a satin pillow in a small yet ornate wooden box that had arkytiors and the star constellation of Kasterborous carved into its surface, moving through the throng until they found a more secluded location to stop and take a breather.

“When do you want to do this?” Eresian asked breathlessly as he stared into her equally wide eyes. Arione blinked, then smiled. 

“I can’t think of a more perfect end to a day like this than to get engaged to my soulmate under the light of the stars,” she purred. The tone made him shudder and swallowing thickly he carefully stowed the box safely in a messenger bag he had decided at the last minute to bring along to the festival. Linking their hands together they went to enjoy the festivities.

There was a reason Arcadia was the cultural hub of Gallifrey despite the fact that it wasn’t the political capital. The majority of the city had spacious park spots in the midst of suburban communities, the more crowded residential areas unofficially designated as the artisan community because they tended to live there. The buildings themselves were built for beauty rather than practicality and it shown through in the way the city itself was laid out. 

Carved and smoothed stone was mixed with polished metals and colored glass, the roads paved with uneven rock shards set into a creamy rose-colored poured stone filler. Neat flowering gardens and hanging trees bordered trimmed red glass plots and clear ponds. Hanging lanterns crossed from one roof ridge to the next and lit the streets between the buildings, colored cloth wrapped around the simple rope holding the lanterns in place. Everywhere a smooth surface presented itself was art. Some of it was casual, some adolescent, and some so professional as to be breathtaking. 

The market was busy. Crowded lanes wound haphazardly between market stalls filled with goods from exotic or domestic locations ranging from fine quality to bad and from generously priced to criminal. Buildings housing commercial interest were more crowded together, businesses often multi-storied or stacked upon one another. Smells from spice and perfumes or from nearby restaurants tempted the senses, bright colors and elegant patterns drew the eye. It was never quiet here unlike in the gardens; shouting in multiple languages from multiple species not bound to Gallifrey mingled with music and recited poetry from street performers while the passerby chattered or haggled over price as they browsed. 

Everything was just busy, busy and beautiful and never a dull moment to be seen. Arione blinked as she felt memories fluttering at the edge of her consciousness. Brief flashes of a city on fire, of soldiers in the streets and children crying for their mothers. Of gorgeous architecture which had stood countless millennia crumbling under the blast of incendiary and buckling from the stress of the bloodbath. 

“Hey. You okay?” Eresian asked softly, holding her against his side comfortingly. 

“Yeah. I just... remembered something that I wish I hadn’t.” He frowned at the vague answer but didn’t press. He’d learned months ago that pushing for more made the elusive memories fade that much more quickly. Instead he kissed her lightly on the temple and she managed a light smile that brightened as the flashback receded. She then frowned suddenly, nostrils flaring ever so slightly as she searched for the source of the wondrous smell.

“Do you smell chips?”

“‘Chips?’” Eresian echoed, frowning now as well as he tried to identify which of the specific scents currently saturating the area had caught her attention. “What’s that?”

“Sort of like strips of fried potatoes covered in salt and sometimes vinegar,” Arione replied impatiently as she searched almost desperately for the object of her desire. “I used to love those before... well I guess I still love chips based on how good they smell.”

“What _do_ they smell like?” 

“Uh... fried starches so a bit earthy, salt, oil, maybe vinegar. You know they’re good quality if they’re wrapped in newspaper.” He was about to reply when she let out a gasp, wiggled out of his grasp, and took off through the crowd thus leaving no alternative but to chase after her to make sure they weren’t accidentally separated. 

Eresian caught up with her as she paid for the food and got a first glimpse of what she was talking about. Thin strips of a originally-scarlet starch-based vegetable had been fried in oil until slightly crispy and russet red then doused in salt, and their scent was... different, at any rate. 

“Not exactly like the chips I’m familiar with but I’ll take what I can get,” Arione laughed. She popped one into her mouth, eyes fluttering closed as she let out a groan of pleasure and savored the taste before opening them again to glimmer at him mischievously. She picked one out of the paper-lined basket she’d been given and arched an eyebrow. Chuckling slightly Eresian leaned in to snatch it out of her fingers, eyes going wide at the explosion of new flavors he was immediately subjected to.

“It’s different,” he said finally after he’d swallowed. “Not sure I like them or not but they’re definitely... interesting.” 

“You’re gonna joke that I can smell out a chip shop at 500 paces in the future,” she said seriously as she shoved a few into her mouth and smiled in pleasure. It was his turn to arch an eyebrow in amusement.

“Can’t imagine why,” he said cheekily. She gave him a glare of mock-affront and then flashed that intoxicating tongue in teeth grin. He gave in to the desire to shove that tongue back into her mouth without any real debate over the pros and cons, tasting salt and grease on her lips and deciding that maybe he did, in fact, enjoy the flavor combination that the chips afforded. 

Later that evening there was a dance in one of the many courtyard squares scattered about the city that he pulled her into; Arione had been nervous because she couldn’t remember if she knew how to dance or not, and Eresian didn’t care because the opportunity to hold her close and enjoy a night out had presented itself on a silver platter. She was truly a graceful dancer, her movements natural as she let the music influence where she was going rather than trying to direct them, and the natural poise she carried herself with translated beautifully into smooth footwork. Hesitant motion had quickly given way to relaxed enjoyment as she found that she knew exactly what it was she was supposed to do even if the dance itself was unfamiliar. 

When the suns properly set the air had cooled to a pleasant and refreshing breeze with the lights of the city gleaming festively above the revelers. Arione raised an eyebrow but laughed as Eresian took her hand and pulled her away from the main festivities, a large grin on his face. He led her to an old building that had excessive creeping ivy going all the way to the roof and began climbing the stronger vines. After a moment of hesitation she followed and he helped her onto the mildly sloping shingles. 

“What are we doing up here?” She asked as he took off his robes to spread them out on the roof, spreading out on half of them in his more accustomed Earth Depression-Era apparel. He patted the remaining space and she smiled before stretching out with her torso pressed against his side. 

“Watch,” he said simply, pointing up at the star-speckled indigo sky. A few minutes later it exploded with color as multiple booms of fireworks blossomed in sparks of bright light. She laughed with delight and he leaned over slightly to kiss her temple before drawing back to rustle about in the satchel he’d brought with them, drawing out the ornate wooden box. 

“You planned this perfectly,” Arione sighed with a soft smile. Smirking, Eresian propped himself up on an elbow to look slightly down at her. He reached out and flicked a strand of shimmering golden hair away from her face before looking into her eyes and frowning slightly. 

“May I?” He asked, fingertips gently brushing her eyelashes. 

“Go ahead.” Approval granted, he immediately removed her colored lenses so that he could see her natural blazing golden gaze burning into his soul. He smiled.

“I want to propose to the woman I fell in love with, not the woman she pretends to be for other people.” Arione smiled softly at that, cheeks blushing. “And, on that note...” he paused, swallowing nervously.

“Go on...” That got a slight chuckle at least as he gathered his courage.

“Arione, would you do me the honor of accepting an engagement bond in the hopes that it will one day mature into a full marriage bond?”

“Yes,” she breathed softly as he slid the ring onto her ring finger with a sense of finality. “Eresian, would you do the same honor for me?”

“I could never deny you anything,” he murmured helplessly as he lost himself in her eyes, his own ring sliding onto his own ring finger. Not exactly per Earth tradition, but considering that this wasn’t Earth they were both okay with that. 

They each brought their hands up to one another’s temples and then connected. The promise of the engagement bond already granted on both parties, both initiated it and lost themselves for a moment in the intimacy that the bond brought. They hadn’t experienced a permanent empathic bond yet, so that settled into place quite snugly with their preliminary bond as if they had always been linked together in such a way. 

“Tonight couldn’t have been more perfect,” Arione sighed as she slumped against his chest and watched the fireworks explode above them.

“My sentiments exactly,” Eresian murmured contentedly as he caressed her jawline with long, delicate fingers.


	5. Navdi

War. That was... well. It certainly put the looming graduate project for Eresian’s last year at the Academy and the wedding preparations into perspective. They’d decided to wait until he was out of school before marrying and, while the last twenty years had been long, they were made easier by the engagement and empathic bonds they shared. And now they were fighting a rather terrifying species of world-eaters called the Yssgaroth which had come through a black hole leading to another dimension which in turn seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. 

Arione had called them the Great Vampires, a name which had been gasped out in horror without any context behind it and nor was she able to provide any afterward. Gallifrey had already lost several of its outposts to the ravenous creatures. After all, when they could eat a planet...

Their presence in the universe had disrupted the timelines, the Pythia had said. All time-sensitive species would feel it easily, and oh they did. It was like an ever-present source of unidentifiable pressure was pressing on the back of Eresian’s neck at the base of the skull, a dull headache that made it difficult to focus. Layana had tried using her Hero abilities to read the timelines more accurately and had nearly gone catatonic. The Time Capsules - which Arione affectionately called TARDISes - had previously been able to travel through time as well as space but were now limited to space alone. Time travel had always been a luxury anyways; without a stable power source the process was dodgy and extremely imprecise. 

To combat the Great Vampires an elite class of spacecraft called Bowships capable of launching large metal rods into the hearts of the beasts had been assembled, and while waiting for those 700 units to finish production the Pythia had also ordered a new Type of Capsules. The latest set, the Type 40s, would be the only generation ever to be grown for a specific objective and would all be fitted with instructions to kill Great Vampires on sight written directly into their programming. It was definitely going to look interesting on his project report at any rate. 

For the Academy’s graduating class they were required to make their own study of a particular field that interested them, compile the data, and submit it for review. Eresian had chosen time capsule coral growth, thus spending extended time in the nurseries, and had ample opportunity to examine the difference in reading between the Type 39 generation and the Type 40 almost simultaneously (as the Type 39s were four years older into their growth pattern). They were... different. More sentient, with minds solidly of their own and extensive personalities to match that the previous versions simply lacked. While every single one had been a living being, this new line outshone them all when it came to expressing individuality. 

“They’re calling it the ‘Eternal War,’” Arione said in disgust as she entered his chambers. Eresian started, pulled unexpectedly out of his thoughts by her declaration. She huffed as she dropped the letter from Kassia on an end table and flopped dramatically into a nearby armchair. The eldest of his baby sisters might have married and moved to Arcadia, but she kept in frequent touch with everyone and informed them on developing events just as soon as they happened. Being so far out from the rest of civilization it was the best way to remain current. 

“As if the ‘Vampire Wars’ wasn’t bad enough?” Eresian muttered, closing his field journal with a tired sigh. He fixed her with a look. “Faerven volunteered for an outpost position today.”

“And he has three children to worry about protecting,” Arione countered. She tilted her head slightly as if considering something, eyes flashing almost white for a few moments before shrugging. “He’ll make it out alive. Don’t worry.” 

“Your ability to read personal timelines concerns me,” he muttered good-naturedly as he stood and walked over to kiss her on the temple. 

“Can’t read yours,” she purred, trailing kisses along his jaw as she laced their fingers together in much the same way their timelines meshed into one path. 

“Well I should certainly hope not.” 

“How’s your project going?” She asked, changing the subject smoothly as she nodded toward his field journal. He grimaced.

“Ah. That. Fine I guess, but with everything else going on it feels like a moot point.”

“Eresian.”

“What, darling?”

“I know you want to join the war because you feel you have a duty to protecting our House and planet. But until you graduate, you won’t be able to make a difference.”

“That’s not-“

“I might have lied a teensy bit when I said I couldn’t see your timeline,” she confessed with a guilty sideways glance. He stiffened, eyes going wide as he looked at her and waited for her next words. It took a few minutes before she could face him again. Exhaling, she drew in a deep breath and took his hands in hers before looking directly into his eyes. “I can see parts of it. Some, but not all. I just didn’t want to worry you. But trust me on this. You were... always meant to do great things,” she began. “It’s in your blood. A potential Hero’s... _potential_ is... much more likely to be fulfilled and full of amazing things than anyone else’s. And I really hate to tack this on, but have you never thought of why your soulmate just so happens to be the daughter of the Time goddess?”

“Arione-“

“You were meant to be an officer, Eresian. You were meant to do great things. But they don’t make un-graduated students officers. And your work with the baby TARDISes? It’ll be crucial later in the war. Trust me. You’re right where you should be right now.” 

“How can you be so certain?” Eresian whispered as he gathered her into his arms for a tight embrace. He felt Arione smile into his neck. 

“Well, I _do_ have the advantage of being the daughter of the Time goddess as I said earlier... you know, Vela weaved the timelines herself so I should be confident in reading them by now don’t you think?”

“Cheek,” he muttered before kissing her soundly. 

They had found that, if they went somewhere during the day, the only thing Arione really needed to hide her less than ephemeral existence was a set of colored contact lenses. The golden-orange light of Gallifrey’s twin suns could easily be attributed to her shimmering rich yellow hair and softly glowing skin and, quite honestly, she attracted _more attention_ wearing a full body disguise. Eresian may or may not have grumbled about still being required to hide his hair when she didn’t have to, but when it came down to it he was happy that she was happy. Pretending to be someone else never suited her well. So he was currently pouting as a pair of star-struck time capsule nursery workers were on the receiving end of one of her glorious smiles and conspicuously basking in her beauty. 

“When you said you wanted to come along I didn’t think that meant you were going to _flirt_ ,” Eresian hissed sourly as they carefully stepped down rows of clearly-marked tables that were holding carefully-arranged open-top boxes in them. Arione flashed him a tongue-touched grin, the kind she reserved only for him, and rolled her eyes.

“Being friendly doesn’t mean I’m _flirting_ ,” she retorted. “Now, which are the 39s and which are the 40s?”

“The 40s are on the left side and the 39s are on the right,” he muttered with a sigh of defeat. He suddenly frowned when he noticed a box isolated from the others. It had a special transparent top and the Type 40 coral inside was pulsing with golden waves of energy that bashed against the sides of its modified prison. “That’s not supposed to happen.” He dashed over and froze when he was in front of the case, honey gold eyes glaring shards of amber at the nursery workers. “How could you do this!?” 

“What’s wrong?” Arione asked as she came to stand beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He was shaking with anger.

“Time capsules are sentient, just like us,” he growled. “They’re telepathic and forming proper communal connections with their siblings when in the nursery is crucial to healthy development.” He pointed at the energy being discharged. “She- she’s terrified because she can’t hear her brothers and sisters. And she’s too young to understand why aside from the fact that they’re just not there anymore.” 

“Well we can’t have that,” Arione _tsked_ as she deftly removed the top of the case and reached inside, cooing softly as she drew the coral out and cradled it in her arms. Eresian watched in amazement as the frantic fear dissolved like mist after a summer rain as the coral responded enthusiastically to his soulmate’s comfort, calming and pulsing slightly as she embraced the caregiver. 

“What are you _doing!?”_ One of the caretakers hissed, scurrying over. “The delinquent will contaminate the rest of the stock if allowed to connect with it!”

“So you lock her up!?” Eresian snapped. “She’s just a baby! What did she do that was so wrong?” 

“All attempts at domestication failed,” the caretaker muttered sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck. “We were worried about inciting rebellious tendencies in the entire batch. Isolation was the best option.” 

“Shhh,” Arione whispered as the coral in her arms pulsed with energy. She looked up at the official. “Is there no better solution? What if she were to be removed from the nursery but allowed to be around telepaths?” The other woman blinked. 

“You’re suggesting taking her back to a House to grow so that she can feel the presence of the Gallifreyan minds from the House and also be cared for by the Memory Tree?” She asked. Arione nodded. “I... It’s certainly unconventional...”

“You’re causing this baby capsule pain!” Eresian snapped. The woman flinched, brows furrowed as she considered her options. Finally, she sighed. 

“I wish I could- but I can’t,” she muttered helplessly. “I don’t have the clearance. You’d ah, better put her- it- back in its nesting box.” She watched and waited patiently for Arione to do just that, eyeing her like a hawk until the task was done, before she let them continue through the nursery to record for his project without being babysat. 

“I can’t believe they would do something like that,” Eresian spat as they exited the nurseries and climbed into their transport to return to the estate. He slumped behind the controls. “I’ll have to keep an eye on her when I go back.”

“Must you, really?” Arione asked a tad too innocently. He raised an eyebrow at her and gaped when she slowly drew the infant coral out of her robes and loosely but firmly clutched it to her chest. She winked at him and he let out an incredulous laugh.

“Oh, we’re going to get into so much trouble.”

“Only if we get caught.” 

“Have I told you yet today that I truly, deeply love you?”

“About five times.”

“Minx.”

They were chastised for ‘liberating’ the coral, of course, but once Layana realized just how upset the poor thing had been she’d decided to introduce the coral to the core of their sentient House herself - i.e. the Memory Tree - and everyone had got along splendidly. The coral was given a spot of honor in her office as a matter of fact, in a spacious but comfortable nesting box set on a table in front of the large landscape windows so that she could feel the twin sunlight and grow in a healthy and observed manner. She’d easily become Eresian’s specified focal interest for his project and as such saw much of Arione as well. 

Eresian walked into the study one afternoon to find his soulmate gently singing to the TARDIS coral, making small movements as one would rocking a small child to sleep, and was struck by the imagery of her doing just that to a small baby with tawny copper hair so strongly that he had to grab on to the back of a chair to remain upright as he went weak in the knees. 

“Like what you see?” She asked so quietly he wondered if he’d imagined her saying it. 

“It- it’s certainly... promising,” he managed to choke out in a squeaky voice. She smiled, then held out her free hand encouragingly. He took it in halting movements and inhaled sharply as she gently but expertly placed the coral in his arms. He could feel her presence now; there was appreciation, gratitude, amusement at his nervousness, and... sense of family. 

“She’s bonded with you,” Arione said softly with a proud little grin lighting up her features in an impish way. Eresian looked up abruptly from the little bundle of infant time capsule in his arms to stare at her with wide eyes. 

“Won’t that- I don’t know- be bad for her future pilots?” A shrug. 

“Maybe. But who’s to say _you_ won’t be her pilot?” 

“I- does this have anything to do with your ability to see my timelines or the fact that you know me in my future?”

“Her name is Navdi,” Arione said, entirely ignoring him. That was fine. He was content to see how things played out this time around. He winced as a brief series of images involving blue boxes labeled ‘Police Public Call Box’ flashed across his vision and rubbed at his temple with his free hand.

Over the next few months the coral grew quickly; more quickly than those in the nursery did, Eresian noted with no undue amount of glee. He made that the argumentative point of his graduate thesis and argued strongly that home-reared coral developed more quickly and more healthily than nursery-reared coral, even going so far as to suggest that future prime pilots should select their eventual craft a few weeks after they were seeded. He got top marks on his paper and was left to study for his upcoming exams with prejudice and, despite the fact that he was infinitely more interested in helping finalize the wedding arrangements and submitting an application for an officer’s position to join the war, he was actually making good progress with it all. 

About a week before finals Arione was greeted by a shy Peylix and a stranger on the doorstep. Eresian had been home on the estate for the better part of the month studying for exams and it was a given that some of his schoolmates would show up at some point, but nevertheless it was still a surprise when they did. 

“Peylix,” she said with a smile as she noted his gaze drift slightly over her shoulder in a hopeful glance. “Zahnah’s here, in case you were wondering.”

“Thanks,” he muttered as his face blushed bright red and scurried past her into the house.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Arione said cordially to the tall stranger with the short ebony hair and sharp steely green eyes. They were observing her with great interest and, resisting the urge to squirm, she drew herself up to shoot him a meaningful glare. “It’s polite to ask for someone’s _name_ before scrutinizing their appearance.”

“Rassilon,” he said immediately, taking one of her hands - which had not been offered - and kissing the back in a more flirtatious than considered decent manner. 

“Arione. My fiancé is most likely in the library. I suggest you go say hello.” Rassilon smirked at her but nodded, stepping lightly past her into the foyer and allowing his shoulder to lightly knock against hers as he did so. 

“I should go and see him then, by all means. Of course, you and I simply must get to know one another better later this evening.”

“Rassilon.” 

“Hmm?” She fixed him with a cold stare - a feat in and of itself considering that her eyes were always burning gold - and his self-satisfied smile slowly evaporated. 

“I don’t think either of us have all that much to say to one another outside of a group setting. I’d appreciate it if you respected that.” 

“Of- course, milady.” Rassilon watched as she closed the door and stalked up the grand staircase, torn between annoyance and admiration. Her utter inability to fall for his charm was bothersome and her willful personality was alluring. Shaking his head slightly to clear it, he wandered toward the library. 

“Fascinating specimen you’ve got there Eresian,” he said lightly as he entered. Peylix rolled him eyes and buried his nose into a book as the redhead glared at him, tapping his temple. “Something wrong?”

“Just had a _very_ interesting conversation with my _fiancée_ ,” he snapped irritably. “Or had you forgotten that not only do I feel her emotions but I can also have a non-tactile telepathic connection with her with limited distance at present?” 

Rassilon had the decency to at least look regretful at the idea that he had been caught out. He shrugged, sliding into a seat and dropping his things on a nearby table as he spread his study materials before him. 

“It was all in good fun, Eresian. No need to take offense.”

“She didn’t appreciate it. And as a matter of fact, neither do I.”

“So possessive,” Rassilon snickered. “You should be careful. Our ancestors weren’t known for doing anything by halves, and I’ve heard that soulmate instincts are very strong to begin with.”

“On that note, shouldn’t it be _you_ who should watch out?” Eresian retorted meaningfully before proceeding to ignore him. Omega cleared his throat awkwardly and then began listing off some of the questions they should expect. They studied for hours together before breaking for dinner with the rest of the family; it escaped no one’s notice that Zahnah and Peylix sat as close together as they could, she at times nestling her head into his shoulder and he sitting with a sappy grin on his face every time she did so. 

«Do you think it’ll last?» Eresian murmured telepathically as he handed over the bread rolls to someone else down the line. Arione smiled knowingly.

«I can’t say for sure, but Zahnah’s made some comments that make it sound like they might be soulmates.»

«Bit coincidental that he’s one of my best mates.» 

«Not really. Remember, soulmates gravitate towards one another instinctually. Destined to meet at least one time in their lives. Can just never guarantee when.»

«Well without you pushing him I somehow doubt Peylix would have mustered the courage to do anything about it.»

«Not like you were all that bold either, mister.»

“Cute,” Eresian muttered aloud. Arione smirked. 

“Wine?” Riven asked.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Arione replied with a mischievous grin. Riven rolled her eyes as she filled the expectant glass. 

“So, Rassilon. What are you planning on doing after graduation?” It was one of the aunts. 

“Joining with the forces,” Rassilon replied promptly and politely. “Right there with Peylix and Eresian beside me.” The chatter around the table ceased abruptly and he had the decency to realize his blunder. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to start something.”

“That’s alright,” Eresian sighed. “It was me that should have said something before now.” He leaned back in his seat and rubbed at his face. “But yes, I intend to enlist, hopefully for an officer’s position, a month or so after graduation.”

“What about your wedding?” Layana asked tersely. She was being scarily quiet which was setting off cloister bells in everyone’s minds.

“He’d be leaving afterwards,” Arione said calmly, though her eyes were burning brightly golden. “They’ll be fine.” 

“And you know that how, exactly?” Rassilon asked primly. There was an awkward silence.

“How far along are you in the wedding preparations then?” Midia questioned in an abrupt change of topic. It was eagerly accepted by those assembled at the table.


	6. To Have and to Hold

“Do you think...” Eresian began hesitantly as he trailed his fingers across Arione’s arm. The stars were spread above them and the universe was at their fingertips. Sometimes, with her, it felt like he really _could_ touch the stars.

“Do I think... what?” She asked drowsily, snuggling closer against his side. Her hair tickled his chin as it spread in a fan over his torso. 

“Never mind.”

“No, go on. ‘s not like you can hide anything from me anyway.” He hummed appreciatively at that comment and considered the heavens above.

“Do you think you can show me where your home planet is from here?” He asked finally. 

“Mmhmm.” She pointed easily to a particular speck faint amid a cluster of other stars. “Sol 3, Terra, Earth... got a lot of names, us.” 

“Do you miss it?” A shrug.

“Can’t miss what you don’t remember.” 

“But... but you’re happy? Here?” Arione turned so that she could fix him with a soft yet pointed look. 

“I’m with you. Home isn’t a place for me, Eresian. I’ve spent so much time traveling... Earth hasn’t been home for centuries. Home is you.” Eresian smiled at that, then promptly began purring as she played with his tufty sienna hair. 

“I thought your graduation went well,” she commented lightly after a while. “Not that I have much to compare to, but still.”

“I got high marks,” he conceded. “Doesn’t mean I enjoyed being away from my family for so long. At least it’s over now. I can move on to other things.”

“What do you plan on doing, after the war?” 

“Um... dunno. Hadn’t given it much thought, really.”

“Politics?” The light swearing in response made her smile. “Take that as a ‘no.’”

“Maybe something to do with nursery work for the TARDISes,” he murmured speculatively. “I enjoyed working on my graduate project.”

“What about... exploring the cosmos? Expansionist research in deep space?” His brow furrowed for a few moments before his entire face softened.

“Only if you come with me.” She flashed a tongue-touched grin. 

“Definitely.” He kissed her on top of the head and then grinned broadly. “What?”

“We’re getting married in four days.” She made an odd sort of _brr_ ing sound at the happy pronouncement, a cross between a hum and a tongue roll, guttural and at the back of the throat as she exhaled, and he suddenly realized that she was trying to mimic the purr his species made when content and relaxed. It was just another difference between himself and his soulmate, another difference between a Gallifreyan and a Human; her scent had all the wrong markers in it when trying to read her reactions as to whether she was angry or sad or happy or receptive of his affections and it had taken a very, _very_ long time to learn how to identify the chemical responses her species produced. Arione had been trying more often recently to try and mimic responses she had noted in her Housemates rather than simply use her instinctive human indicators, and pulling back slightly Eresian frowned.

“What?” Arione asked, turning her head to look at him in confusion as her brow creased with worry. She had felt his concern and annoyance. “What’s wrong?” 

“You don’t have to try and act Gallifreyan, Arione,” he said gently. “I’m marrying you for _you_. It doesn’t matter to me that you’re part of a different species.” Even if she had been fully human he would have still fallen for her and fallen hard, but admittedly the time coursing through her veins made her alluring in a way that was just criminally irresistible. He was a creature of time and as such he was drawn to her. “I’m still shocked you wanted a fully Gallifreyan wedding.” 

“What other kind of wedding would we have?” She asked with a shrug, though she relaxed into his side bonelessly at the soft admission that the species difference didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Aside from rings which we already put our own twist on-” the objects were gently caressed as he ran his thumb over hers and she ran her thumb over his- “I remember absolutely nothing about- hmm, okay, the _only_ other thing I remember is that the bride is supposed to wear white,” she conceded after a pause. “But it’s so plain and your sisters helped me find the perfect shade of red...” 

“Don’t tell me!” Eresian squeaked. At her raised eyebrow he blushed adorably, tugging on an ear. “I may or may not have looked up traditional Earth customs for weddings in and around England 21st century and ah... one of those is that the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride the night before the wedding.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Or is it the entire day? Oh well. At any rate, I _definitely_ shouldn’t see the dress until the ceremony.” 

“Am I allowed to see your robes though?” Arione asked. Eresian blushed again. 

“Ah... no. I mean, according to tradition, yes. But... humor me?”

“Of course,” she mumbled as she nuzzled at his neck. “Any other traditions you took note of that you want to use?”

“‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,’” he quoted easily. “Bride is supposed to have one of each.”

“Ah, then I believe I’ve got that covered.” 

“How so?” 

“Your sister is doing my hair and using the ribbons your mother had at her wedding. Old, borrowed. My ring has dark blue in it. For something new, Riven presented me with a House Charm and I intend to wear it for the first time on our wedding day.” Eresian smiled, tugging thoughtfully on his own House Charm. They were small pieces of elongated carved metal made of the name of the House, the lines and dots engraved into the surface design. On either end were small holes through which thin braided leather had been looped and tied to form the band of the bracelet, and they were to be worn on the right wrist. The metal was white gold, the leather burgundy. They had no purpose really, but they were popular. House pride, displayed to be seen. 

“Do you know what it does to me to hear that you’ve already been accepted by my House?” He murmured into her ear. She nuzzled at the sensitive spot on his neck just under and behind his ear; the most ticklish spot on his entire person really. He shuddered and started squirming while she laughed at his discomfort. He punished her by rolling over, pinning her arms to the grass, and proceeding to take a long piece of grass to trail across the tip of her nose. She yelped and struggled but he was stronger than her. Eresian was rewarded by Arione rearing up and snogging him senseless. 

Although, if he were honest, he rarely was in possession of them when she was in such close proximity anyway.

~*~§~*~ 

“Do you honestly think wearing that will make a difference?” Faerven asked skeptically as Eresian argued with his neckwear. 

“I certainly hope so,” he mumbled nervously. “It’s not like everyone attending isn’t aware of her species origin anyway. But it- I just- she knows so little of where she came from and she’s surrounded every single day by all things Gallifreyan and I... I wanted something that reminded her of her roots so to speak.”

“Does she even remember what those roots are?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “But it’s the thought that counts.” Faerven just shook his head with a small smile. “What?”

“It astounds me how much you love her,” he said quietly. “When she first showed up it was clear you were soulbound. Very first night. Breakfast the next morning only made it all the more obvious. Most people aren’t that easy to spot. They can work independently of each other for long periods of time, they can decide to never pursue romantic interaction. But you two... you need each other like you need air.” He leaned forward and finally succeeded in getting his younger brother’s ensemble to look properly perfect. “And I’m honored to be the one to approve of her union to you in place of her parents.” 

“Faerven...” 

“I know.” 

“Did I do this right?” Arione fretted. She was surrounded by her five soon-to-be sisters-in-law and they were putting the final touches on her gown, hair, and makeup. She was currently referring to the lay of her cloak as it flowed off her shoulders. 

“Oh, it’s perfect,” Midia assured with a dreamy sigh as she smoothed out and adjusted the silky train the cloak made. “I wish my dress could look like this on my wedding day.”

“Why do you even _want_ to get married?” Riven muttered mutinously. “Ow!” She added as Zahnah smacked her hard on the back of the head. 

“It’s not for everyone,” Teanai laughed. Kassia looked up from her work on the hair as she incorporated her mother’s ribbon - the very one all of Layana’s daughters would wear - into Arione’s hair. 

“Were you nervous?” The bride asked. Kassia nodded, then realized she couldn’t see. 

“Of course. Standing in front of that many people, committing to the person you love for the rest of your life? Terrifying. But oh so worth it.” 

A traditional Gallifreyan wedding had everyone assembled before the bride and groom arrived, the officiator standing ready. As Layana was the matriarch of their House and thus owner of the extensive estate she took on this role with all undue authority. Faerven stood ready to give authorization for the wedding to the side of where the bride would stand, and Kassia stood to the side of where the groom would stand. Even though her mother would be giving the blessing, there was a requirement in the ceremony that made it necessary for her involvement. 

They were holding their wedding in Asheun because the nearest temple was there and, as per tradition, all marriages were to be overseen by the eyes of the Menti Celesti. So, at the moment, they were to wait inside the courthouse and when ready they would walk outside toward the open-air pavilion. 

Eresian stood before the closed double doors in the dim vestibule and fidgeted back and forth; the back of his neck was damp with a light sheen of sweat and his neckwear felt a tad too tight. 

“Eresian?” He looked up sharply from studying the slight scuff on his shoe and forgot how to lock his jaw in place. Arione came walking toward him in a rich burgundy dress with bare arms. The skirt was bunched at the waist and drifted almost lazily to the ground as she walked. It was covered in bright golden sparks even while the torso - which went up to her neck in a short collar - was a shimmering yet solid color and when the light hit it there were a million tiny suns. Her train was attached as a bunched addition to the shoulders that flowed down her bare back, to the floor, and about two or three feet along the ground. True to her word she was wearing her new House charm and her betrothal ring, and the arkytior pendant he had gotten her in Asheun all those years ago hung from her neck. Her hair was done up in an elegant chignon bun with seemingly dozens of complex tiny braids that had tiny white flowers woven in and was securely tied with the champagne-colored ribbon worn by Layana in her own wedding. Burning golden eyes were framed by well-placed discreet eyeliner and the faint haze of golden eyeshadow graced the lids. Lips lightly glossed with shining pink called appropriate attention but didn’t dominate. 

“...Hey...” he stuttered, voice squeaky and uncooperative. She smiled at him and it was like staring into a supernova. “You look... wow.” Arione let out a nervous giggle and bit her lip.

“You’re wearing a tux,” she said softly. And he was. A burgundy suit-jacket and dress slacks with charcoal grey shoes, a soft cream dress shirt, and a charcoal grey bow tie. His usually uncooperative sienna hair had been tamed for the short foreseeable future, though it snagged on his own betrothal ring when he ran his fingers through it. “Eresian... I didn’t even know how... how much that meant...” 

“I figured you’d appreciate it,” he said softly as he brushed a soft wisp of golden hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch and they exchanged a loving smile. He pulled back ever so slightly, hand dropping to his side, and just at the last moment Arione’s came up so that she caught his fingers in her own. The affectionate beaming turned into wide grins, both fueled by infinite happiness and nerves, and they turned toward the doors still holding each other’s hand in a loose and companionable grip. 

When the doors opened they walked down the impromptu aisle passing the rows of family and friends who had gathered as they made their way toward Layana at the end. She was dressed in shimmering golden robes and had her silvered sienna hair down in soft flowing curls, her silver eyes sparkling with warmth and pride. Standing in the pavilion before the statuettes of the Menti Celesti. The faint aroma of the burning incense mingled with the cool winds of spring, the sunlight glinting off of loose fabrics and making everything seem all that much brighter and more beautiful. Garlands of arkytior flowers were draped along railings and petals were strewn across the ground and floor. 

Hearts hammering, the couple stopped before their House matriarch. There was a pause for a few moments before she began the ceremony by going through the monotonous explanation of why this union was beneficial to their House. At the end she smirked.

“Right, now that that’s out of the way...” she allowed a pause as those assembled got control of their soft laughter. “On this day my second son is to be married to a ward of my House. As I am officiating this ceremony, my eldest daughter has kindly volunteered to act in my stead. To this wedding, I consent and gladly give.” 

At this pronouncement Kassia picked up one end of the ribbon to be used in this ceremony.

“My eldest son, you stand in the stead of this woman’s parents. What say you?”

“I and my House, of which she is ward, consent and gladly give,” Faerven said in a strong voice as he picked up the other end of the strip. Layana nodded. 

“Good. Then let them take part of the handfasting.” Carefully, Kassia on one end and Faerven on the other, they placed the ribbon over their joined left hands and began winding it on either side down their arms until they ran out of cloth, at which point the ribbon was left to hang loosely. “This cloth is a tangible symbol of the bond they will share as husband and wife. As bond mates they will be of one mind and one purpose. You know the vows?”

“Yes,” Eresian said quickly. He took a deep breath and then looked Arione direct in the eye. “Of my mind I hide no secrets. Of my body I lend my strength. Of my soul I will join gladly with yours and hold nothing back.” 

“Of my mind I safeguard your thoughts,” Arione reciprocated. “Of my body I heal your wounds. Of my soul I receive all you give me and do in like kind.” 

“We beg the blessing of the goddesses upon this un...ion...” Layana trailed off as arkytior petals began drifting in a small wind to circle around the couple’s feet and slowly drew higher at they encircled them, the petals coming from the incense bowl of the statuette of Vela. She cleared her throat and continued onward despite the soft murmuring that had broken out among the guests. 

“...And before all concede that this bond will be complete.” At a sharp nod from Layana Eresian brought the fingers of his right hand to Arione’s temple and Arione mirrored the action, their left hands still bound. The world around them faded away as they worked to complete their marriage bond, and as such they did not notice the handfasting ribbon glowing brightly in the same color as the eyes of Vela’s statue. 

It was as if their two consciousnesses had become one. The bands of cold indigo and blazing white entwined tightly together in their minds, the blanket of golden sunshine and liquid silver condensing and combining like swirls of foggy color to balance and become one entity. 

«I love you,» Eresian whispered. His words echoed softly in her mind and the statement burned his claim on the bond in place. «You are my eternity.» 

«I’ll give you my forever,» Arione whispered back as she laid her own claim. «I love you.» 

They both let out a slight gasp as the bond settled firmly in place and flared with brilliance in their minds. There was a part of him in her now, and she in him. They could feel it, the completion and rightness as their soulbond only served to enhance the ceremonial declaration of lifelong commitment. Bond mates. Breaking out of their telepathic communion they looked deep into each other’s eyes and leaned in for a finalizing kiss. 

~*~§~*~

The reception was like a large picnic, really. Cushions and blankets had been laid out on the ground and the guests were free to recline wherever they chose rather than being assigned a specific seat. This was highly _un_ traditional in the eyes of the planet they were on, but for the House they belonged to it was a normal occurrence. Voranaer was well-known for upholding the tradition of being untraditional and they were proud of it. In all honesty it was what Peylix loved about them. His own House, Lungbarrow, was stuffy and sticklers for strict ritual behavior, and he rather hoped that he would be able to convince them to give Zahnah the type of wedding she was accustomed to. If not, he intended fully to elope. Maybe he could remove himself from his House and be adopted into Voranaer by being an in-law then. 

He had to propose first, though. 

...He had to formally ask her out for starters...

At the moment the object of his affections was dancing with her nieces and laughing at her younger sister Midia as she fell under a pile of enthusiastic small bodies that had successfully tackled her into a small stack of cushions. Peylix smiled at the sight, losing himself in the happiness of the affairs. His attention was brought back to the sight of Eresian leading Arione toward an out of the way space where they could dance - also not a Gallifreyan tradition as any and all were communal to take the intimacy out - and they lost themselves in each other. 

What must it be like, Peylix wondered, to have a marriage bond? To be that committed to another person that you gave them a piece of your consciousness? Then again, they already had a piece of each other’s souls so...

“Whoa,” he murmured, jaw sagging as he stood awestruck. The suns were beginning to go down in a brilliant display of color, and gently swaying in Eresian’s arms Arione truly looked, for the first time to Peylix, like a being of ethereal status. Her pink skin was glowing porcelain with inner light; the softly waving rich golden hair she had done up in an elegant chignon was platinum as it shone. Her new husband leaned in to kiss her and Peylix had to shut his eyes as a bright flash erupted in the center of the town’s parade ground. There were gasps of startled amazement all around them but neither one seemed to have heard. 

As the flash ebbed down to an almost painfully bright constant white gold Rassilon watched with narrowed eyes. His friend had married the daughter of a goddess. His mind was overclocking as he attempted to understand what that could mean... soulmates complimented each other. If she was a Demi-goddess, then... 

How was Eresian not blind yet? 

...Oh. 

He was gazing with total love and adoration down at his new wife, eyes blazing a fiery gold. 

He wasn’t blinded by her because she was emitting the light of time, and he had been born to one day see it in a way that very few had ever been able to. Certainly not his brother. 

Promising. Very promising, indeed.


	7. The Eternal Wars

“Noooo, stay,” Arione whined in a thick, sleepy voice. Eresian chuckled and let out a slight ‘oof’ as she wrapped her arms around his torso and dragged him back down into their bed. “Pillow,” she sighed happily as she rested her head on his chest and snuggled more tightly against his side. Hair fanning in a ticklish wave over bare skin he let out a mock huff of exasperation and did as asked, kissing the top of her tawny head and relaxing back into the thick blankets with a contented smile. 

He had less than a week before he and the men and women under his command shipped out to fight the Yssgaroth, and he intended to make the most of every single moment. 

It was late in the morning - or early in the afternoon depending how one looked at it - when he managed to drag himself out of bed and grab breakfast. Arione needed more sleep due to her human roots even if it was far less than her initial species required, and as a result she was still asleep when he padded softly in with a tray balanced in his hands. Waving a mug of tea in front of her face he chuckled as she reached to grab it in her sleep, groaning with frustration when it remained just out of grasp. Finally, her burning eyes opened to glare at him reproachfully as she tried to snatch the beverage and sat up on her side. He smiled teasingly as he slid back onto his side of the bed and picked a piece of fruit before plopping it in his mouth. 

“Morning,” he said cheerfully. 

“Mornin’,” she replied with a wide yawn as she pushed back her long hair before holding out an expectant open hand that had grasping fingers attached to the end of it. “Tea. Now.”

“Ah.” He clicked his teeth with his tongue and grinned as he took a long pull from the mug, savoring the aroma and flavor, as he took his time swallowing it. Rolling her eyes, she hooked her hand around his neck and tugged him down for a kiss. “Hmm.”

“Mmm.”

“I think it tastes better this way.” Pulling back, Arione gave him a long look before claiming the mug and taking an appreciative sip. 

“Prefer it the original way.” She smirked at the pout and snickered. “All right fine c’mere.” She plopped a piece of fruit in her mouth just before their lips connected and the pair spent a few minutes half-heartedly trying to claim the berry with their tongues as it passed back and forth between their mouths. In the end Eresian bit it in half and they split the treat. 

“Verdict?” He asked with a laugh as he reached over to wiped some of the bright red juice off the corner of her mouth with a caressing thumb. She nipped it playfully, gaze alight with mischief. 

“Definitely still like my _tea_ as aunt Arjin intended, but berries? I’m open to suggestions.”

“Oh, good. I was worried.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Your wish is my command, milady,” he snickered before leaning in to kiss her again. 

Somehow, they managed to get through their breakfast spread in a decent amount of time despite the newfound game of half-heartedly fighting for fruit or the teasing way they dabbed jam on each other’s cheeks, lips, and noses - which required a thorough cleaning either through caresses with now-covered fingers in preserves or well-intentioned kisses. Or the seeming impossibility of it all for them to get through a single piece of toast without pausing in the process to accept a proffered bite of meat from the other’s fork. Despite all of the indications that it would end otherwise, it was still late morning - or early afternoon - when they finished. 

She was sitting on the edge of their bed with her long hair plaited back in a thick braid and smiling radiantly at him when he came back inside. Wordlessly, they twined their fingers together and walked to the stables for a long ride. They spent the night under a canopy of stars and couldn’t have been happier even if the ground was damp with evening dew. It was just them and the universe beckoning above, and for the moment it was easy to believe that the war _was_ a silly little story made to frighten children. 

When he left for war she was there to straighten his uniform one last time and kiss him on the forehead. He sighed softly and she brushed at the tears running down his face.

“I want that uniform back in one piece, you hear?” He nodded.

“Yes ma’am.” When their recently fully-grown TT Capsule dematerialized with a slight chiming sound that wasn’t quite right to Arione’s ears, she telepathically told him to be careful. Eresian sent her a mental caress back and poured all of the love he felt for her in his hearts into their bond. 

She was crying long after he’d left.

~*~§~*~

Smoke and blood were billowing through the air, one a choking smog and the other a hazy mist. The sound of rapid gunfire and the slicing of melee weaponry echoed through the ravine Eresian had currently found himself trapped in. On the one hand, he was at the moment alone. On the other, Vampires were quick and precise. Being confined to a small area was _not_ a tactical strategy he was approving toward. 

Groaning, he heaved himself up over the side with difficulty and crawled a few paces through the dirt until he felt ready to assume a sitting position and shakily stood to his feet. Blood was pouring from a deep wound to his abdomen and it felt as if several of his ribs were broken. The bones would mend, but he had bigger problems with the blood. Vampires could smell it miles off; he might as well have a flashing arrow above his head with the word ‘dinner’ projecting into space. 

Low growling and hissing started up on his left and he turned to see one approaching, pupils dilated as it followed his scent and long fangs slid down from hollow slits in the upper gums. The points glinted in the poor light and Eresian shuddered. 

“Kill,” the creature whispered. “Fresh kill.” 

“Not dead yet, vermin,” Eresian snarled as he hefted his broadsword. A low growl worked its way up from his chest as the vampire tread closer. It paused, swaying slightly, and regarded him with amusement. “You don’t belong here.”

“But we were invited,” it whispered. The sword directed at it lowered ever so slightly.

“What?”

“There we were, drifting in the darkness of the Void, when the gate opened and we found our freedom.”

“What gate?”

“The singularity. The black hole. The gate.” A sickening feeling was beginning to settle in the pit of Eresian’s stomach as an idea floated into his mind.

“Yeah? And how did you manage to create that then?” He asked warily. The vampire laughed. It was a chill, unsettling sort of laugh that seeped morbid satisfaction. 

“Oh, but we didn’t. Thank you for the access.” 

“What do you-” It was at that moment, of course, that the creature chose to attack. Eresian grunted with the effort of keeping out of reach of the fangs and poisoned weaponry being directed at him, his opponent lunging obsessively toward his open wound. That was quite fortuitous really, in the end. So preoccupied was he with trying to get a snack that he didn’t notice the blade coming toward his heart until it was protruding from his back. 

There was a strangled gurgling noise, blood trickling from the beast’s fanged mouth, as it slumped against the blade with its full weight. Grunting, Eresian lowered the weapon and the vampire slipped off the end to drop unceremoniously onto the ground. He stumbled backward and sank to his knees clutching at his side. 

He dimly heard the sound of voices calling urgently for him as he slipped into dark unconsciousness.

~*~§~*~

Pale golden light was streaming through the fluttering curtains of their balcony awning as Eresian slowly came to in his bedroom on his side of the bed, blinking in confusion and wondering why he felt as if he’d just been gored by the antlers of an Elupáfi. Shifting, pain exploded all across his torso and abdomen and a dull ache had settled into his bones. 

“Ah,” he croaked, throat dry as he remembered what had happened before passing out. “That’s why.”

“Hmm?” Hearts stuttering in his chest at the sound of her voice and the smell of her scent washing over him as she stirred in their bed, Eresian swallowed before inclining his head to look at her. In the fourteen years he had been gone he had seen her only briefly when his fleet came back for repairs and to refuel, and it had been thirteen months since their last encounter. In that time her hair had grown longer until it was long enough to cascade down the entirety of her back in a shimmering curtain of softly waving gold, glowing in the dim light of early morning. A light breeze came to them from the open windows bringing with it the cool dry air of the winter season - which was what Arione jokingly referred to as ‘a blazing English summer’ despite not being able to describe what exactly that even meant - and ruffled his tufty locks. Chuckling, Arione reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. Purring, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple. Their bond flared pleasurably in their minds and they sighed.

“I missed you,” they both murmured at the exact same time. 

“So, what happened after I went unconscious?” Eresian asked. Arione propped herself up on an elbow and tilted her head slightly as she stared at him. 

“Well, you went into a healing coma. Your second in command found you and dragged you back to the medical checkpoint, and they sent you home once they’d patched you up.” 

“How bad was it?” 

“Considering that you were at the hospital for a week before they sent you home and that you stayed unconscious for a further four days after _that_ , and that they aren’t even considering doing a checkup to see if you’re fighting fit for at _least_ two weeks, I’d say it was pretty bad,” she replied drily. He winced, letting out a moan of discomfort as he tried sitting up. 

“...Ah- Ow, ow- Mm... Yeah. I’m inclined to agree with you,” he whimpered. Arione rolled her eyes. 

“Come here,” she sighed. “Pull back the covers so I can get at your wounds.”

“Why?” 

“Just- please? I know what I’m doing.” Shrugging - and then immediately regretting it - Eresian let her at his bandages. She inched closer to him and sat up, gingerly laying her hands on his bare chest where the bruising on his ribs was evident. After a few short moments her fingers began to glow with golden light, and he inhaled sharply as heat spread through his body. He watched in fascination as the dark purplish-green blotches faded. Not entirely, but enough that he felt much better. 

Stretching tentatively, he smiled in relief. She’d somehow managed to loosen the knots which had been present in his muscles since he’d joined the campaign; the heat had simmered down from an uncomfortable whiteness in his core to a soft golden sunshine warmth that had soaked into every part of his body. 

“Better?” Arione asked quietly, the glow slowly fading from her hands as she finished whatever it was she had been doing. 

“Much,” Eresian murmured as he leaned over to kiss her on the lips. 

It was late into the morning when they finally made it downstairs. Eresian’s bandaging had needed redressing, he had trouble dressing in general because of his wounds, and every step felt like ten with lead weight tied to his ankles as he leaned heavily on his bond mate’s shoulders and allowed her to help him one step at a time down the large staircase. To his surprise they ran into Faerven in the entryway. 

His elder brother was sporting a long, raw scar down the length of his neck and had two distinct puncture marks sluggishly healing just below his left ear. The two men regarded each other as they took in their respective injuries before gently - very gently - embracing and going their separate ways. There wasn’t much to discuss, and neither felt much like doing so anyway. They were at home, and the battlefield belonged elsewhere. 

After a short breakfast that was at once overwhelmingly domestic and welcome yet something his stomach rebelled against due to nausea from the pain he was experiencing, Arione led them out onto the veranda and helped him settle into a seat under the shade of a silver-leaved tree. Afterward she snuggled into his uninjured side and they spent most of the afternoon reading. 

The two weeks he was home was spent alternating between recuperating - which involved plenty of rest and Arione actively aiding his healing process - and actively researching any and all singularity activity that had been recorded when the Yssgaroth had appeared in their universe. What he found did nothing to dissuade his growing suspicions. 

At the end of that rest period Eresian was given a medical examination and told that he should report directly for duty in another two weeks, but he was feeling much better and as a result was quickly growing restless. Being denied the ability to go back to service when he felt like he was under house arrest was making for some... interesting behavior. His usually happy and congenial personality was inflected with sardonic commentary and an endless pacing of the hallways. 

So, when Arione told him that she wanted to go somewhere for the remaining time they had left, he jumped at the opportunity. To his surprise he followed her to his time capsule - he’d begun calling it a TARDIS because it sounded cool and she did it all the time - and watched with admiration as she deftly navigated the controls, amazement not even beginning to describe how he felt when she applied some of her essence and they broke through the Time Barrier. The interior was a gorgeous blend of dark woods and light creams and the way she lovingly caressed the paneling showed how much she appreciated this ship that they both had bonded so entirely with. 

They landed on Earth in the 1920s somewhere in a more rural part of southern England. To both of their bemusement the TARDIS took the form of a slightly battered Police Public Call Box - whatever that was - and after locking up and dressing for the period they both took to the streets. Eresian was finally treated to proper fish and chips and subjected to his bond mate practically cooing over the fried potato slices, and he fawned over all of the cars. They had tea, a proper English blend, and crashed a garden party where someone roped him into a game of cricket and he found that he enjoyed the sport immensely. 

The estate hosting the party took such a liking to them that they were asked to stay on as guests for the remainder of the two weeks they were visiting, and they quickly obliged. While he detested the shooting he loved the horseback riding, and of course there was nothing better than experiencing Arione’s former home planet. She’d put the contacts in her eyes and retired early in the evenings with the sun, but that gave them plenty of time to indulge in the vast library selection available to them in the manor and as such they spent much of the time reading. In effect, they began referring to this time as their honeymoon seeing as they hadn’t been able to have one due to his enlistment in the war. Even if it wasn’t a Gallifreyan thing to do it had been one of the human traditions he had taken a fancy to and wished he could have indulged in.

And it was splendid. Eresian took easily to the different card games he was presented with and Arione found she enjoyed learning to paint and play the piano. Her voice was... well, she was far better-suited to singing than playing an instrument, but after a rough start she was dutifully determined to at least be decent at it. And, of course, there was the day she pushed him off of the pier and into the lake when he grabbed her ankle and dragged her in with him. 

They got caught in a downpour and ended up dancing in the rain while she laughed and he lost himself in the way she shone. A gala was put on and they had an opportunity to dance close, the twinkling fairy lights in the garden effectively hiding Arione’s glow enough that they could enjoy the evening without worrying. They were in love, he was healing steadily, the war was eons away in the past, and whenever they accidentally mentioned it everyone assumed he had fought in the War to End all Wars and said nothing of the matter.

They were aware it was still happening for them, of course, but at the same time he really had needed to take an extended absence. Breaking 57% of the bones in one’s body and being stabbed in both a kidney and liver sort of necessitated that. 


	8. The Infinity Blade

Arione had somehow tangled them so entirely in the sheets that Eresian woke up early that morning because his respiratory bypass had engaged from being under the covers. Huffing as he maneuvered his head into the cool, fresh air, he spared a glance over at his spouse and let an indulgent smile spread across his face as he watched her sleep. He rolled her over in a snuggle, arm snaking defensively around her torso and hand coming to rest protectively against her abdomen as he buried his nose in her neck and took in her scent. 

“Morning,” he murmured softly. He felt the vibrations of her vocal cords where his mouth was pressed against the underside of her jaw as she hummed back in sleepy greeting, her fingers snaking down his arm in search of his hand as they came to rest on top of his on her stomach. “What were you thinking about doing today?” 

“Well I’ve got a serious craving for fresh fruit and a desire to get that special sword made for you before you have to go back, which is in... three days? Other than that I’m an open calendar.” Eresian groaned at the mention of the sword and the unwelcome reminder that he had to go back soon. 

“Well the fruit’s easy enough, but as for the sword I’m afraid we’re out of luck. No metalworkers in this day and age on Earth who can match the skill you’re looking for.” 

“Then we should go somewhere else to get it made,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes. 

“I’m not willing to go anywhere but home with you in your condition,” he returned pointedly. 

“Yeah, and who put me in my _condition_ in the first place?” She needled playfully. Eresian rolled his eyes but recognized when he was losing an argument. It was a familiar experience when it came to her. “Come on. I want to make sure you’re safe and that sword you had when you were injured just wasn’t cutting it. Literally. Please, for me?”

“Arione...”

“Look, if not for me then, at least for- please.” He sighed. 

“All right, fine. Let’s go get a sword. Any specific place you had in mind?” Arione’s brow furrowed in thought. 

“You once took us to this sort of... forge moon on accident,” she said slowly. “The most advanced in the universe, but they only made weapons for noble causes. Restoring rightful exiled royals, supplying an insurrection against unjust institutions, fighting untold evils- that sort of thing. I’m sure if Navdi helps I can get us there.” 

“I haven’t told you yet today how much I love you,” Eresian murmured as he trailed kisses along her bare shoulder and across the nape of her neck. She shivered at the contact and he drank in the luxurious scent of her recently-changed human hormones. He couldn’t get enough of it, and the idea that she... his hand gently caressed her abdomen as he kissed her temple. “So... I love you.” 

“Maybe a shield too,” she murmured thoughtfully. 

“Okay,” he muttered as he eased himself out of bed. “Come on. Breakfast first.”

“‘M not hungry though,” she whined with a yawn. “It’s early and I’m still sleepy.”

“You need to eat,” Eresian chided as he quickly dressed. “You can’t skip breakfast.”

“Eresian...” 

“No, now _I_ get to be the one who puts their foot down.” He succeeded in putting on his suspenders and rolling up the sleeves of his slightly rumpled white shirt, dancing on one foot as he tied the laces of a shoe. “If you both want to be healthy, you need to eat.” 

“Tea first,” Arione compromised with an eye roll. She heaved herself onto her elbows in a graceless maneuver and then sat up, running her fingers through her long hair and wincing at the tangles. He handed her her brush without a word and headed for the door. “Thanks.” 

By the time he got back to their assigned room with a tray bearing eggs, toast, and a mountain of fruit with two mugs of tea in the corners she was partially dressed with her hair pulled back into a series of coiled braids that were heaped elegantly on the top of her head and ended by fanning loosely to her shoulders. She was in the process of sliding a knee-length era appropriate skirt up her legs and as he set the tray down she paused, fingering the buttons on her pale purple blouse as she eyed her figure in a full body mirror. Purring, he came up behind her and kissed her temple as he took control of buttoning up her shirt for her. 

“Come on,” he murmured. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Mm.” 

They ended up heading out as soon as their hosts were up and about, and they both gasped as they exited the TARDIS in their usual clothing to see the market of the forge moon spread out before them. It had been named Hephaestian by someone with a sense of humor, and in the deep violet sky six other moons and a large yellow-green planet with rings were visible. The rich blue grass and bright red rocks at their feet gave way to an ebony stone path which they followed a little ways to a bustling market thick with the heat of the forges and the sound of sizzling, cooling metal. 

“So, what do you think?” Arione asked knowingly as she flashed a grin of pearly white teeth at him in the dim light. Eresian barely spared her glowing form a glance as he continued gaping at his surroundings. 

“This is... wow. Traveling with you... I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Great.” She linked their arms together. “Let’s go find a sword.” 

Since she seemed to know exactly where they were going Eresian let her lightly drag him along, surveying everything around him with wide golden eyes and gaping unabashedly with great curiosity at some of the more interesting species present. One of them noticed this and growled at him. Immediately, Arione stopped and made a chirping noise that had the alien tilting its head at her in interest. It chirped back, and Eresian soon realized they were having a conversation in a language he had never heard before. At the end of it the creature was smiling amusedly at him with sharp pointed teeth and shrugged before moving off. 

“What was that about?” He asked when they were out of earshot. Arione was smiling. 

“In Hebraskan culture staring at someone is taken as a sign of provocation,” she explained easily, patting his arm. They were moving again. “I told her you’d only ever seen humanoid mammalian aliens before today and she stopped taking offense.” 

“...Oh. How do you know how to speak the language?” A shrug in response.

“I learned it, apparently. Not sure when but I did.” 

“Hm.” 

“This way.” They came to stop before a stall that looked much more decrepit than the others. A tattered awning shaded a counter covered in soot and the chaos of mismatched tools behind in the workshop made for an all-around feeling of a dying business. The owner of said stall - a creature with long legs that had the knees reverse of the majority of bipedal species, four gangly arms with incredibly long and nimble fingers, a long arching neck with a snouted nose and a mouth full of fanged teeth, with thin pointed ears and large almond-shaped eyes entirely white with soft orange sparks dancing in them and shimmering jade green scaled skin - approached the register and leaned against it with a toothy smile. 

“Oh my goddess, but you are a worthy customer,” a high-pitched warbling voice trilled congenially. 

“This is Orfelan,” Arione explained. “His species, Kotano, live for a few hundred years and their home planet was known for its acuity in the art of metalworking.”

“Ah, yess,” Orfelan said with a slight hiss of the ‘s’. A long, forked tongue flicked out of his mouth as he regarded them with interest. “I remember now. The Wolf and her Healer. What can I do for you today?”

“We’re in the market for a sword,” Arione replied while Eresian tried to puzzle out what the labels meant. Sure, his name meant ‘healer’ in High Gallifreyan and Arione’s meant ‘wolf flower’ but still... how was this man supposed to know that? He came back to the conversation when it registered that they were discussing what the purpose of the sword was for. 

“You’ll be wanting an Infinity Blade then,” Orfelan said offhandedly. “Good for me but not so good for you. It’s one of the most expensive.” Eresian was about to call it quits at that - after all they didn’t have any usable money on them at present - but he was silenced by a gentle telepathic prod from his bond mate as she produced a credit stick from the pockets of her robes and dropped it casually on the table. 

“Not an issue,” she said with a smile. The stall owner flashed a fanged grin. 

“As before,” he conceded with a nod. “In that case, I will only provide the very best I can offer.”

“Why an Infinity Blade?” Eresian asked aloud. He was quickly losing ground in the conversation as the seller and his spouse confidently worked their way through a negotiation that he had no idea how to take part in. This was only the second place he had ever gone outside of war-torn battlefields outside of Gallifrey after all, and the first had been rather tame in comparison. 

“Well, you said you wanted to use it against creatures from the Howling Halls and the Endless Dark. The only weapons that will do any good are Infinity Blades,” Orfelan explained as he rummaged about for a piece of paper and a pencil. 

«Endless Dark?» Arione echoed confusedly in a mental conversation.

«The Void,» Eresian clarified. 

“They can also be infused with Holy Energy,” the Kotano nodded sagely. The look in his milky eyes suggested he was aware of their telepathic exchange but was unable to listen in. “I don’t make them myself, but some of my brethren are in the business of making Death and Pain talismans. Fate is more acceptable with Life being the most common, but the rarest of all is Time. Your Menti Celesti choose champions, I am told. My people call them the Tribunal of the Oracles. We often make Paladins out of protectors, answering the call of the Heavens to take up arms in ethereal cause.”

“I...” Eresian took a step back, startled. “Sorry, what?” 

“Time,” Arione said firmly, her burning eyes suddenly blazing as her soft glow momentarily intensified. “My mother. Make a blade worthy of doing her will.” Orfelan bowed his head, then bowed on an awkward lunge in a gesture of deep respect. 

“Then for this, I ask nothing in return. This is a matter of the Tribunal and their will be done.” 

“Huh?” Eresian yelped. He looked between the two and suddenly realized that they were entirely serious. Hearts leaping into his throat and his stomach dropping into his toes, he forgot to breathe as the implications of what was happening broke over him in full force. This wasn’t just a trip planned on a whim. He had been chosen for something, but he didn’t know what. 

“I need a drop of your blood,” Orfelan said calmly as if he understood what his customer was just now realizing. He probably did. “These blades are bound in blood-oath and infused with the essence of the chosen goddess in a pact bond. Only the bearer will be able to wield it, and should it slip from your grasp only call and it will return to you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eresian responded weakly. He winced as the Kotano pricked his finger and took a small but generous sample, sealing it in a vial and corking it firmly before setting it aside. 

“Now, for the essence.”

“When you need it I will provide,” Arione assured. “What about design?” 

“That is for Psiat, whom you call Vela, to decide.” 

“Understood.” Arione gripped Eresian’s arm tightly and led him to a nearby bench to wait. Over the course of the next fourteen hours he had plenty of time to work through everything he’d been told, and he came to the conclusion that his life had just taken a turn for the extreme. Any hopes of a normal existence flew out the window with this new calling. Of course, he should have known better than to assume that his soulmate was the Daughter of Vela and still be able to believe they could settle down and have a family without something quite fantastical befalling him. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Arione whispered. 

“Why me?” Eresian murmured back. “Why am I so special?” She sighed, resting her head tiredly on his shoulder. 

“If you could see your own timelines you wouldn’t be asking that.” At the pronouncement, he pulled back enough to look at her with wide eyes.

“You mean, it was obvious to everyone else as well?”

“All they know is that your timelines gleam more brightly than most, which shows great potential,” she replied soothingly. “I can see more because of who and what I am.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“You’ll understand soon,” Arione assured him, a far-off look entering her gaze. “Quite soon.” 

“Oh?”

“Mm.” 

At the sixteenth hour they were called back to the stall and told to come around the counter. Stepping into the dimly lit work area, Eresian’s gaze settled on the molten shape of a dagger. He frowned slightly at that, but said nothing as Orfelan asked Arione to contribute the essence. Nodding, she stepped forward and held her hand out over the flat side of the blade. Her eyes burned gold, swirling golden energy manifesting from her fingertips and settling like dust on the weapon. For a few moments nothing happened, and then it pulsated with a bright white light before fading. When it was over the metal had cooled. It was silver, tinted faintly blue, and when it caught the light the golden dust embedded within it was visible as a shimmering display of faint stars captured in the length of the wickedly sharp object. 

The hilt was sized as if for a sword and curved ever so slightly to accommodate both a single-handed and two-handed grip, made of intricately braided golden and silver metal ropes in the arced cross-guard and interwoven with a soft crimson fabric that felt like nothing he had ever touched before. At once soft and silken while being durable and rough for keeping a firm grip. The end was a slightly rounded diamond-shaped metal tip fused with an intricate pattern of red, white, and gold stained glass that looked as if it would shatter at the lightest touch. Of course, it was most likely indestructible if the ethereal quality of the materials was anything to go by. The blade itself was pugio-like, wide at the cross-guard and tapered only ever so slightly to a rounded point end and couldn’t be any more than 3 inches in length. It was beautiful, but Eresian couldn’t really see what all of the fuss was about. 

“I don’t get it,” he said with a frown. “I thought you said-”

“Pick it up,” Orfelan ordered with a knowing smile. Still frowning, Eresian did so. The moment he held it in front of his face a blinding light made him want to shut his eyes on instinct, but he couldn’t look away. The hilt was burning his fingers now but he couldn’t let go. There was the strangest song in his mind now, and then all at once...

Nothing except the voice. 

«You are a Champion of Time,» it whispered loud as thunder. «I chose you.» 

The bright white faded, the hilt cooling, and he realized that these things had only appeared to happen from his perspective because neither Arione nor Orfelan were squinting against the light. When it was almost entirely gone, he stared in astonishment as the golden dust on the blade appeared to glow. On instinct, he flicked his wrist in a downward motion and watched in fascination as the metal appeared to unfold itself into a sword the perfect length and balance for his height and build. It was shaped in an elegant approximation of a leaf-bladed sword where the part at the hilt was wide and then it tapered only to grow wide again and end in a rounded yet sharp, pointed tip. 

A strange tingling traveled throughout his body as energy channeled itself through his arm and into the sword, making it shimmer faintly golden. 

“A blade infused with the raw power of Time,” Orfelan said proudly as he looked with wonder at his creation. He then dug out a wooden box and presented it to Eresian. “I took the liberty of making this as well. A bracer, made of the same metal and material fabrics.” Eresian opened the box and surveyed the gauntlet with interest before trying it on, noting that it had been made for his left hand. The metal part was as thin as paper and covered the back of his hand up to the knuckles, traveled to the end of his lower arm, and almost entirely encircled it with a thin gap for size adjustment in the middle of his inner arm. On the inner side it cut off at the wrist, but the entirety of the hand excluding the lower half and tips of the fingers was protected by a mesh of the crimson fabric which also lined the interior of the metal. The straps were deep red and cinched underneath the metal. Smack in the center of the bracer plate was an intricate engraving of his House’s crest. This blue-tinged silver gauntlet also shimmered faintly with golden dust. 

“An energy shield?” Arione asked, looking immensely impressed. Eresian ignored the reply as he focused on strapping the gauntlet to his arm. “Oh, wow.”

“Hmm?” He was suddenly very, very curious as to what the answer had been. 

“One of the rarest things in the universe,” Orfelan repeated proudly. “My people, my world... there are five patron planets you know. Each one is called home by a member of the Tribune of Oracles and each goddess takes the form of the dominant species. Your Menti Celesti. While your people play patron to Psiat, Vela, mine does so for Caer. You would call her Morai, Fate. As such it is the duty of my people to craft artifacts that honor our deities and help those who belong to the others. We do not see many of your kind. But this, this might just be my proudest achievement.”

“How so?” Eresian asked softly, gently resting his sword in his lap as he examined the gauntlet. Orfelan gestured to the entirety of him in general. 

“To make a weapon of the goddesses and a shield. To make the path-sculptor and the protection for the wielder. It is rare. You not only carry out your goddess’ will, but you are also wrapped in her favor. Count yourself lucky. Most are not so.” At that Orfelan bid them good day and heavily suggested that they leave about their business. 

So they did, buying quite a few things to nibble at as they slowly made their way through the bazaar. Various vendors called out for them, but the only one that really caught their attention was the one selling belts. Arione selected a gorgeous deep blue leather set complete with bandolier and dagger sheathe and he had to admit that he absolutely adored it. So, while he and the vendor were negotiating both price and correct size, she slunk off somewhere else.

It wasn’t until he felt something slide partway down his chest and then her fingers fiddling with the clasp of a chain that he realized she’d gone and bought him a pendant of some sort. Looking down and hefting it up for inspection he quirked an eyebrow at the intricate Neo-Celtic design of a brewing storm cloud on a dull silver chain. It rested solidly between his hearts in the upper middle of his chest. 

“What’s this for?” He asked. She smiled and shrugged. 

“Dunno. Saw it and thought it was appropriate.” She hooked the chain of her own necklace on her fingers so that her own white point diamond arkytior pendant was dangling in the air. “Now we match.” It was her turn to quirk an eyebrow as she took in his appearance. “Oh, that is _definitely_ a good color on you.”

“You really think so?” 

Arione laced her fingers through his hair and pulled his head down into a kiss to show just how much she appreciated it. 

When they arrived back at the estate it was obvious that Layana wasn’t happy with them, but one look at the preoccupied expression on her son’s face and a quick whiff of her daughter-in-law’s scent had her deciding not to follow up on her planned lecture. They were home, something had happened to distract him, and Arione... well, that should have been the first reason for holding back, shouldn’t it have been? 

“What do you think it is?” Arione asked quietly later that evening. 

“Hmm?” Eresian mumbled. He was only half awake and the somewhat vague question wasn’t clear enough for him to process it correctly. Arching an eyebrow as he glanced in her direction, he noted the small circles she was tracing on her abdomen and everything clicked. “Oh. We won’t know until the baby initiates the telepathic familial bond with us,” he said gently as he stilled her ministrations to squirm about under the covers until he was in a perfect position to lean down and press a series of flutterwing kisses to her still-flat stomach where his child was growing. 

“And,” he added, “I can’t wait.” Arione rolled her eyes but let him be, running her fingers lazily through his tufty locks and only serving to make it even more messy. They both drifted off like that into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep. 

~*~§~*~

Returning to the battlefield had been a most... interesting experience. Regardless of the fact that he was reluctant to leave his bond mate for any extended period of time while she was expecting, Eresian hadn’t quite been prepared for his friends’ fascination with his Infinity Blade. Rassilon had regarded it with a sharp, interested gaze and asked for a demonstration of how it worked, and not four months later he was parading around with a spear that discharged energy at contact. It was powered by his own body’s store of Artron energy and sapped his strength, so it wasn’t anywhere close to what Eresian was using, but all in all he thought he’d done well. Peylix had been more interested in the metal of the blade itself and had fawned over the design. He was more interested in working with chemicals and creating new weapons than fighting, and a startling breakthrough he’d gained through studying his friend’s dagger allowed him to rapidly rise in the ranks of the Think Tank he’d joined. He’d all but sobbed happily into Eresian’s shoulder while thanking him over and over again for letting him get a look at it after he’d been appointed the secondary overseer. 

As for the blade itself, Eresian was stunned by how easily he was able to wield it. The thing seemed intuitive almost, and weighed practically nothing while still delivering devastating blows with impact more akin to a heavy broadsword. Every chance he got, he was practicing how to use it. The better the swordsman, the better the use of the weapon. It became an extension of his arm, deadly and precise. For one thing, he was using it extensively and hadn’t had to sharpen it once. While the other swords of his counterparts often broke, his wasn’t even slightly damaged. As a dagger it was great for throwing and close contact work, and made it extremely easy to transport. The energy feature made it all the more powerful and he had accidentally come to realize that it could kill a Great Vampire, not just the standard stock foot-soldiers, and that was something that previously only a Bowship was able to do. 

As for his energy shield, the bracer acted as a solid gauntlet that dependably blocked and absorbed the blows of melee weapons shoved at him. After being caught in an explosion, a cocoon of Artron energy had encased him in a time bubble and kept him safe from harm. The discharge of energy had formed a force field barrier on more than one occasion, although the surface area wasn’t that extensive. 

All in all he felt way too kitted out for the role he was playing in the war, and kept returning regularly to Arione’s cryptic assurance that he would understand soon. How soon was soon? And what would happen to let him figure it out? 

His answer came not eleven months after returning to the front.


	9. Haęon

It was after a particularly bad campaign that he was relaxing with his officers and keeping a careful eye on the enlisted under his command, and he was shocked to see Faerven running toward him. His brother should have been far to the South, not freezing in the Northern plains of the satellite planet they had happened to engage the Yssgaroth on at that time. 

“Eresian!” Faerven shouted. “We have to go home. It’s mother.” The silence surrounding them was suffocating. The loss of a patriarch or matriarch was a serious occurrence for any House, and even more so when said authority figure was your parent. 

“What happened?” Eresian asked sharply as he set his affairs in order with his second in command to take leave on the grounds of family emergency. They were soon walking quickly towards his TARDIS; Faerven had left his in the capable hands of his pilot knowing that his brother would insist upon taking his own craft. 

“There was an attack on the Estate,” Faerven said quietly as they prepared to dematerialize. “Apparently the Pythia decided that the war was a perfect distraction to strike. Mother was hurt badly, and- and she isn’t expected to recover.”

“Was anyone else...?” Eresian all but choked on the words that lodged in his throat. 

“Bumps and bruises. They were after mother specifically. It wasn’t going well, but apparently Vela thought things had gone far enough because Arione disintegrated a few. They left pretty quickly after that.” 

“ _Disintegrated!?”_

“Your bond mate can be a very scary woman when she wants to be. But she and the baby are okay. She was the one that sent out the message, actually. I happened to be at the communications office when it came in and said I’d tell you myself.” There was a pause. “She wanted me to tell you that it’s a boy.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Forgive my asking, but if you’re telepathically bound why didn’t she just-”

“She said she was worried she’d say something in the middle of a crucial moment and it’d get me killed,” Eresian said shortly. Faerven nodded.

“That makes sense. Cevea and I are too used to our bond to do something like that. We just... we ah... it’s such second nature to us anymore.” 

“Mm.” He took a deep breath as he spared a glance at his elder brother. “Are you prepared?” Faerven winced. 

“I’ve been preparing for this since I was born, but...” he shrugged. “I don’t think anyone can ever really be ready for something like this.” He grew thoughtful. “Honestly, you should have been trained with me with your hair color. Just in case.”

“If that happens, what would... How would you... I mean- there’s no good way to say this,” Eresian muttered. The TARDIS made a slight wheezing sound as she slipped into the Vortex, the ship rocking upon entry.

“Relax, little brother. It’s not like it’ll happen. Only does every thirteen generations anyway, and last I checked we were only five out from the last.”

“But it _could_ ,” Eresian argued. The TARDIS sent him a soothing hum and he gratefully deepened the connection between ship and pilot. Faerven smirked.

“Nah. Let’s... let’s go home, and... and pay our respects before she’s gone for good.” 

They landed in a pile of soot and well-burned grass on the edge of the drive and immediately noted the oddly-specific mounds of dust scattered about the well-manicured lawn. 

“That’s... not at all terrifying,” Faerven muttered. Eresian ignored him as he ran for the manor, his mind screaming for his bond mate. He almost collapsed, weak at the knees, when he heard her answering call and felt her love and reassurance wash over him. 

“Cevea says everyone is in mother’s chambers,” Faerven panted as he stumbled after his younger sibling. 

“That’s what Arione said too. But she asked if I could meet her, before. In our rooms for a more private reunion because of the baby.”

“She’s a smart lady,” his brother said with a smile. A gentle tap on the shoulder and they were moving their separate ways. Eresian all but ran to his chambers. He paused at the door, swallowing nervously before entering inside. The sight before him took his breath away. 

Arione was sprawled on a chaise lounge near the window quietly humming a lullaby as she ran a circular pattern over her rather expansive belly, gaze fixed lazily on the stars shining brightly through the open doors of their balcony and the many moons dotting the heavens. He must have let out a sound of contentment or something, because her humming stopped as her head abruptly turned to look at him. She smiled and used her free hand to be held out in greeting, beckoning him closer. 

“Hi,” she said softly as he knelt down to kiss her on the temple and then deliver another to her lips.

“Hello,” he returned as her fingers tugged gently on his tufty locks. The hand that had been dragging patterns reached out for one of his and, snagging it, placed it firmly on her swollen abdomen. A sharp inhale of breath accompanied the sensation of feeling his unborn child kicking inside its mother’s womb for the first time. “Someone has a bad case of the jitters.”

“He’s waited three months to make your telepathic acquaintance,” Arione reminded her husband gently. Guilt flooded the bond and she sighed. “We’ve had each other, dearest. We were okay. You’re here now, so make up for lost time.”

“I asked for an extended leave because of how close to the birth you were,” he admitted, smiling softly as Arione squirmed a bit when he lightly drew his fingers down her stomach. Pregnancy, for some odd reason, had made her more ticklish than usual and he found it adorable. 

“Only two months to go,” she hummed in agreement before fixing him with a slightly annoyed look. “I don’t remember much about being human, but I do remember that their pregnancies only last nine months instead of thirteen.” 

“Sorry?” He returned tentatively, not sounding very much so. He received a light cuff to an ear as she sighed in exasperation. The heartswarming reunion over, apprehension settled in. He took a steadying breath and forced himself to meet his bond mate’s eyes. “May I... may I meet our child?” Arione smiled, gently drawing his head down so that his temple was resting on her belly and then letting her fingers linger on his other temple. Whimpering with anticipation at the contact Eresian mirrored the action of his hand on the side of her head. 

Almost instantly he was welcomed into her golden mind and immediately he noticed a small but aware presence in a bright shimmering lavender calling out for him with hesitant nudges. Sobbing with an indescribable mixture of guilt and joy he went to that presence and drew it close, cradling his son’s mind close to his own as he formed the familial bond between them. A wave of simple emotions all ranging from relief, happiness, and completeness washed over him as his son sent out the infant equivalent of a telepathic ‘hello.’ Arione was soon joining them in a mental embrace, the little family taking comfort in one another before drawing apart out of necessity. 

Eresian pulled away from her belly and dropped a series of kisses on her head, purring as his son continued chattering happily in the back of his mind. 

“We should go see your mother,” Arione suggested softly as she gave his hand a comforting squeeze. He nodded mutely, amusement causing an eyebrow to quirk adorably upward as he watched his bond mate attempt to get up off the chaise lounge. She fixed him with a dark look and asked sardonically, “little help?”

“Hmm? Oh, right.” She huffed a bit by the end of it and he let slip a chuckle, the expression on her face at the sound suggesting he was a brave man indeed.

“Found something funny then?” 

“Just- you’re extremely adorable waddling about like this,” he admitted. 

“Yeah? Well it’s your fault I’m ‘waddling about like this’ in the first place-” here she paused to pat her ballooning stomach pointedly- “so I don’t wanna hear it mister.” 

“I think you’ll find that you’ll be hearing a lot about it for the next two months,” he purred into her ear as he linked their fingers together and led them to his mother’s room. Their mood sobered as they approached the open door; the unhappy emotions of their extended family filtered through as uninhibited empathic thought. It was like a mental rain cloud had descended on the household.

Which, in a way, it had. 

“Mother,” Eresian whispered sadly as he knelt by her bed to take her hand in his free one. Layana smiled weakly at her younger son and mumbled something incoherent as she struggled to get into a more upright position. When this was accomplished she repeated herself, and he was acutely aware of her pain over their familial bond. 

“My son,” she sighed. “I am glad you’re here.” Gesturing for Faerven to come closer she added, “both of you. I was afraid that the war would have prevented your return.”

“They kind of had to let us take a leave of absence because of our House,” Faerven pointed out in a half-hearted attempt at humor that didn’t have anything behind it. 

“Indeed. One of you will become the next Hero of our bloodline and thus the next House patriarch, and thus they had no choice.” The two brothers exchanged an uncomfortable look at her pointed vagueness on who she thought would be taking her place. It had been obvious all throughout childhood who she assumed would be doing so, but now on her deathbed it seemed she wasn’t brave enough to form a certain opinion. 

“The representatives are in the study to draw up the formal papers, when...” Faerven swallowed, unwilling to finish the sentence. Layana cracked a wan smile. 

“When I die, Faerven. Unlike my children I don’t have the luxury of Regeneration. This life is the only one I will receive.” Eresian winced. While the choice to become a Time Lord instead of remaining a Gallifreyan had been one he had made for himself, he could still feel the changes it had made upon his body down to his very blood. While the process had been painless, it had certainly been unpleasant all the same. 

“Mother...” 

“It will be tonight, Faerven. I’ve foreseen it.” Layana laid her head back against the pillows and slumped into them tiredly, her gaze flickering to both of her sons and lingering on them in turn almost knowingly. “I have foreseen much today,” she added with a soft sigh. “Blood, and fire, and a Phoenix that rises from the ash...” 

“Rest now,” Eresian said quietly. “Be at peace, mother.” 

They both stood and moved farther away, taking up position with the rest of the family present as they waited. Faerven leaned against a wall close to his bond mate Cevea, and after a few tense moments, Eresian allowed Arione to guide him out onto a veranda. He leaned heavily against the railing and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, fighting back tears.

“You okay?” Arione asked. 

“Do I _look_ okay!?” He snapped. Immediately sensing both her exasperated annoyance and the confused hurt from his son he winced. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a long sigh and slumped even further on the railing. “Sorry. I just... I just came from a battlefield where the men and women under my command are bleeding for their home, and then I get word _from_ my home that the seat of governing power tried to murder them in their beds, sent my mother on her way to joining the goddess Thana in the land of the dead, and that I wasn’t there when my wife and son-” he broke off sharply with a shuddering breath, hands clenching into fists as he trembled with fear and anger. Arione’s arms wrapped around his waist as she laid her head on the back of his left shoulder, the angle of the embrace awkward because of her belly which he felt pressed against his side in a comforting reminder that both the baby and his mother were well and fine. 

“We’re here, we’re fine. And I don’t think they’ll ever try anything like that ever again so long as I’m around,” she added with a slight tease. Eresian arched an eyebrow as he turned slightly to glare at her reprovingly but the tongue-in-teeth grin he was receiving was too much to truly be indignant with her. 

“How do you always know exactly what to say to at least ease my suffering even if you can’t truly make me feel better?” He asked. She shrugged. 

“Practice makes perfect I guess.” There was a pause as she clumsily shifted position to nuzzle against his chest and he somehow found himself with her in his arms. “Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”

“Hold me, like you are now. That’s all I ask.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do.” 

After a while of standing in place they moved to sit on a bench to spare Arione’s feet, and they settled in for a long wait. It was well into the early hours of the next morning before Layana began struggling to breathe, her heartsbeat becoming steadily weaker and erratic. They all gathered round then to be at her bedside in the final moments, everyone giving Faerven some space as he held her hand in his. Eresian somehow found himself relegated to the third row back and with a light huff he leaned against a dresser, flexing his fingers as they ached to take his mother’s other hand instead of one of his aunts doing it in his stead. Arione’s fingers slipped into his grip and the movements stilled as they clung to each other for comfort. A few minutes later she breathed her last. One of his uncles respectfully closed her eyes and they waited expectantly, all eyes on Faerven, for his Hero Awakening. 

The only indication Eresian had that something was about to happen was Arione squeezing his hand tightly before his vision went completely white and it felt as if his blood was on fire. A song exploded in his mind and drowned out the gasps of shocked relatives as he went crashing to the floor, and then he saw no more.

~*~§~*~

“Did you know?” He asked softly. Eresian shifted on the settee he’d been laid upon as he came to, groaning as he let the blurry image of his elder brother come into focus. Faerven repeated the question when he saw his little brother was more properly conscious. “Did you know it would be you?”

“No,” Eresian replied hoarsely. He subconsciously noted that they were completely alone and closed his eyes briefly to alleviate the burning sensation from dryness, rubbing his face with a trembling hand. “I had no idea.” 

“What, Arione never told you?” Faerven retorted a bit bitterly. 

“Not as such,” Eresian said carefully. “Now that I think back on it she hinted a few times, but never in such a way as to make me suspect.” The comment was met with stony silence. “Can we not do this? I never wanted to take this from you, you know that. I’m terrified, Faerven. I wasn’t prepared for this. I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to do or what I should expect.” 

“Ask your bond mate,” his brother muttered sourly before standing and stalking out of the room. “She seems to know everything anyway.” 

“Faerven, wait-” Eresian went to stand up and swayed when the room spun, letting out a slightly panicked yelp as he went crashing to the floor. 

“Eresian!” Arione exclaimed as she came over to him as fast as physically possible. She carefully sank to her knees with her legs folded underneath her as she leaned back against the settee, stroking his forehead as he struggled to bring himself back from the brink of hyperventilation. Crying softly, he snuggled against her side and let her love and human heat comfort him.

“What do I do?” He whispered shakily. He couldn’t even look at her. Her timelines were blazing painfully against his newly-heightened time senses, and when he stopped to think about it he had at _least_ nine entirely new ones all dedicated to time and time alone. The song of the Vortex in his head sounded deafening, and he was acutely aware of every single microsecond passing by. 

“You go to bed tonight and let your mind sort through everything while your body rests, and tomorrow you talk to the representatives and take Faerven with you,” she said soothingly. “It’s gonna be okay. You need someone to train you to use your new abilities and who better than your bond mate, Hmm? You’ve got a nice, long extended leave ahead of you to acclimatize before you have to go back.”

“I can’t go back,” Eresian sighed. “I’m patriarch now.”

“Do you want to be?” 

“...No.” 

“Faerven already resigned, dearest. Even if he isn’t patriarch the only thing he’s ever wanted or expected to do since he was young was handle the affairs. You could co-lead you know. I know you can’t officially relinquish your position because one of our children will be the next Hero, but...” she trailed off when she saw him finally smile. “What?”

“I like that word, ‘children,’” he hummed happily. “Has a nice ring to it.” 

“One at a time tiger,” she laughed softly. 

“Ooh I dunno, might do two the third time around,” he teased tiredly. She cuffed him lightly on the ear in response. 

“Yeah? You gonna be the one to carry them for thirteen months?”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, ‘Ah.’ Come on, bed.” He protested mightily when she took some of his weight, going on and on about how she shouldn’t be doing that in her current situation, but it fell on indifferent ears. When he was safely tucked away - and she stayed to softly hum him to sleep - she got up and went to go find her current victim.

Faerven was honestly shocked when the door of the library burst open and banged harshly against the wall, the book in his hands falling slack before toppling in a heap on the floor. He was pinned in place in the armchair as his heavily-pregnant sister-in-law advanced toward him with blazing golden eyes and gleaming golden hair. Raw time was emanating from her in waves and his time-sensitive body was having a hard time deciding whether it wanted to bask in and soak up the energy or rebel against it by way of his stomach violently expelling its contents onto the floor with prejudice.

“What’s wrong with you!?” Arione snarled.

“I- I don’t-”

“I just watched your brother cry himself to sleep a few moments ago thinking you hate him while everything he knew about his own body is changed. He’s terrified of what’s just happened to him, he has no idea what it is he’s supposed to do with it. You’ve always been his hero whether that means getting Omniscient Time Powers or not, and you just up and _abandoned him_. I heard him begging you for help and I know _full well_ you heard him crash to the floor because he was still dizzy. So let me ask you again, a little slower this time. _What. Is. Wrong. With. You.”_

Faerven let out a groan and slumped in his seat, heels of his palms digging into his eyes. Arione was still glaring at him with irises of eternal fire and he felt like they were burning at his soul. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Truly I am. I just... he never worked for it, Ari. Never in all his life. I did. Why don’t I get rewarded for that?”

“That wasn’t his choice to make, and he wasn’t allowed to prepare and you know it.” 

“But what am _I_ supposed to do now!?” He exclaimed, exploding from the chair and pacing in front of her. She raised an eyebrow and then crossed her arms over her chest as she listened with considerable patience he was surprised she was allowing him. “It wasn’t just his life that changed in an instant! Mine did too! Everything I thought I knew, what I expected to be, that’s all changed now. Do you know what I studied at the Academy? Hmm? I studied _House politics._ I was the eldest child of the matriarch of my House and that was what was expected of me. But now, because of a stupid clause in our charter, I don’t have that anymore.”

“Eresian doesn’t want it and came so far as to tell me as he was drifting off that he was hoping you would agree to co-lead with him,” Arione said quietly. Faerven stopped in his tracks, staring at her with wide eyes. 

“...What?” 

“If it weren’t for the fact that one of our children will be the next Hero he would bow out completely and leave the position to you to fill, as you had intended and expected to,” she elaborated. “Would you do that?” He tilted his head slightly to the side at her word choice. From anyone else it would have simply been caution, but because of who she was... the word ‘children’ seemed to strongly imply that the son sleeping in her womb would not be the one to inherit that title. 

“Can you see your own future?” He sidestepped casually. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly at him but her posture was gradually relaxing. 

“Bits and pieces,” she admitted as she traced circles over her stomach before shooting him a knowing look that made him distinctly uncomfortable. “But you’re avoiding my question.” 

“I... I don’t know,” he sighed heavily, suddenly excruciatingly tired both physically and emotionally. 

“He’s not a politician,” Arione reminded him gently. “He’s a scientist and an adventurer at hearts. He’ll never be good at that even if he gives it his best shot. And maybe his best shot is stupendous, but he’ll always feel like he could be doing better. And honestly? If he were better suited for the role, he could. But his isn’t so he can’t. But you? You’re tailor made for running an estate, Faerven. Always have been, always will.” 

She turned to walk away and paused in the doorway. 

“Think about it, okay?” And then she was gone from sight, leaving him both relieved that she was no longer there and strangely bereft now that her peculiarly intuitive insight was no longer available for him to access.


	10. Visionary

“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to how perfect he is,” Eresian murmured dreamily as he looked down at the baby nestled drowsily in its mother’s arms. Gently, he let a finger drift near to the child and smiled when his son made a half-hearted grab to claim it. “Now, none of that. You need your sleep, Cal. Sleep.” 

Caldeon stretched and yawned drowsily, looking up at his parents with wide marmalade brown eyes. He made a soft squeaking noise and made to grab his father’s fingers again. Arione shushed him with a musical hum and giggled when he yawned again and snuggled closer to her singular heart. 

He had soft brown eyes like they had guessed Arione had once had, a shock of slightly spiky flaming red hair, and his father’s freckles were spattered all over his face that housed his father’s cheekbones, his mother’s nose and mouth, and his father’s brow. While he had been born half human half Gallifreyan they had been surprised to see that he had been born fully Time Lord; the added bits to the genetic structure that came about only after submitting for the change at Academy graduation were already present. They’d eventually put it down to Arione’s unique pedigree. It had been about a month since he was born and it was tearing Eresian apart inside that he had to go back to the war in four short weeks. 

His leave had been extended from two months to four due to his unexpected assumption of the Hero role to allow him to acclimatize, and while Faerven was quiet they were figuring out how to co-lead their House. Arione had been indispensable in helping him come to grips with his new abilities, and while some of them still felt raw he was much more comfortable in his own skin than he had been at the beginning. 

So, progress. 

“It’s gonna kill me to leave the pair of you,” Eresian sighed. Arione snuggled more closely against his chest and carefully handed over their son to him. His hearts stuttered in his chest as he held the soft bundle and watched the timelines swirl almost lazily about. They were vague, but... he’d heard that parents weren’t able to see their children’s timelines except in bits and pieces, and here he could see not only large sections broken apart from one another but the potentials as well. That was definitely a Hero trait. He could also see bits and pieces of Arione’s timelines - that was _definitely_ not typical as she was not only his bond mate but also his soulmate - and they were all needlessly jumbled and complicated but oh so tantalizing to examine. 

“It’ll be over soon,” Arione sighed tiredly. “Not sure when. Could be months, could be years... but it will end before it reaches a decade.”

“A light at the end of the tunnel.” Eresian nodded. The morbid conversation was eased by the happy chattering of their son’s fledgling telepathy against their minds and he shifted his grip to more easily look down into the infant’s face. “Hey, hey. You’re happy, huh? You like it when your Ada holds you?” 

“You need to sleep little one,” Arione chuckled as she tapped Caldeon on the tip of his nose. He giggled in response and proceeded to make a series of cooing sounds. 

“Good luck with that,” Eresian chuckled. “He’s wide awake.”

“Mm.” And then Arione began softly singing a lullaby he’d never heard before that made his hearts stutter as her lovely voice lilted through their bedroom as she sang their newborn son to sleep. 

~*~§~*~

Eresian was in the middle of a meditation session when Peylix and Rassilon came bursting in to his tent. They’d been doing that a lot recently it seemed; the campaign had finally become located to a single planet and the end was drawing near. As a result the forces of Gallifrey were together for the inevitable confrontation, and that meant that the usually-isolated officers were together once again. 

“Oh... sorry,” Peylix murmured sheepishly as he shifted by the flap uncomfortably. “Didn’t know...”

“It’s a new habit, if I’m not mistaken,” Rassilon commented blithely as he leaned against a pole. “Am I right?” 

“You are,” Eresian murmured cautiously as he regarded his friend. Timelines always seemed to dance so strangely around him, and Peylix... they were odd as well. Sighing he rubbed at his temples and stood, stretching stiff muscles. “What’s up?” 

“Haven’t had much time to chat since... you know,” Peylix replied earnestly if not awkwardly. “Sorry about your mother. I can’t believe the Pythia actually _did_ that.”

“Mm... when this war is ended I think I might have... _words_ with them on your behalf,” Rassilon added with a dark look. 

“Unlike the rest of my family I disagree with you,” Eresian muttered. He tugged on an ear and then ran his fingers through his hair and repeated the light tugging gesture on his sienna locks when both of his friends registered surprise. “What’s done is done. They won’t try again, not with Arione and I around.”

“And, of course, Faerven is Hero now,” Rassilon added with a raised eyebrow. “That counts for something, yes?” 

“Yeah, about that...” Peylix’s eyes grew as wide as twin moons as Eresian let the sentence trail off into meaningful obscurity. Rassilon just smirked, his suspicions confirmed. 

“Well, what else were you supposed to be seeing as your soulmate is the Daughter of the Time goddess?” he laughed. Eresian shot him a glare but it did absolutely nothing to deter him. “Oh, come on. You had no idea at all? I had this pegged early!”

“...How early?” Eresian asked, eyes narrowing as suspicions began to form. Rassilon sniffed and shrugged indifferently. 

“The moment I saw her I knew what she was. I wouldn’t have bothered flirting with her otherwise.”

“You flirt with everyone’s girlfriends, Rassilon,” Peylix scoffed. 

“She comes from an inferior species and thus would not have been worth my time unless she had a redeemable quality and that meant I should try to form a Union with her.”

Eresian growled deep in his chest at the remark and Rassilon had the decency to at least concede that he had crossed a line even if he wasn’t apologetic about it. 

“Marriage shouldn’t be about political alliances,” Peylix sighed. Rassilon pouted.

“They would if I had my way.”

“Did either of you have a purpose in coming in here and interrupting my meditation - which by the way, is extremely important because I’m trying to read the timelines to determine the possible outcomes of our campaign? Or did you just decide it would be a great idea to make nuisances out of yourselves by making this the topic of conversation?” Eresian asked drily. 

“My point is once I heard that the two of you were soulbound I all but had it in writing that you would be the next Hero.” Rassilon concluded his original point with a huff and folded his arms across his chest. Peylix rolled his eyes before answering the actual question.

“I made a discovery in my laboratory,” he explained. “We thought you would be interested.”

“My interest is piqued,” Eresian admitted as he stood and stretched stiff muscles. “Right then, let’s go shall we?” 

“I call it Aetern,” Peylix said excitedly as they walked. “When someone dies they can have their memories, essentially their essence, uploaded to a sort of... of weave. A Matrix, if you will.” 

“Why not just call it ‘the Matrix’ then?” Rassilon asked, confused. 

“That’s just too simplistic.”

“I think it works better,” Eresian confessed. Peylix let out a groan and stomped on a little ahead of them. 

“The _one time_ I try to wax poetic and I get shot down in flames...” 

“You’re a scientist, Peylix,” Rassilon retorted blithely. “Stick with what you’re best at.” 

“Zahnah loves the sonnets you send her,” Eresian assured him in a soft whisper as he picked up the pace to walk by his friend’s side. “Arione says she gushes over them.”

“Really?” Peylix whispered back. His crestfallen expression brightened considerably. 

“Mm.” 

“I was- I was hoping to ask her to... after.” 

“Ah yes requited love how sweet,” Rassilon snickered. Eresian and Peylix both shot him an exasperated glance.

“I can’t wait for the day you meet your soulmate and fall head over heels for them,” Peylix muttered sourly. 

“Highly unlikely.” 

“Destined to meet them once!” Eresian chirped as they pushed open the doors to the scientific prototype complex.

“Oh yeah? Is that your professional opinion as a soothsayer or blasé ignorance?” 

Eresian rounded on Rassilon as Peylix slunk off toward his workbench, getting the sense that they needed a moment of privacy. In two short seconds he had him pinned to the nearest wall and despite being taller and broader in build Rassilon was trapped thoroughly in place. Eresian’s golden eyes were hard as flint and they narrowed ever so slightly as he leaned in to whisper. 

“ _Don’t_ mistake my abilities for superstitious magic tricks,” he hissed. “I guarantee you it will be the last one you ever make.” His eyes blazed with Artronic fire briefly and then faded. He continued in an even quieter tone of voice that dropped several decibels in warning. “I know it was you that let the Yssgaroth through into our universe. Had a lovely chat with one on the battlefield and it was practically crowing at the betrayal one of our own had done. It said that the gate was opened. Took me a while to figure out what he was saying, but I eventually got there.”

“Oh, and what did you discover?” Rassilon murmured in a silky voice that belied a calm he was most certainly not feeling at present. 

“I don’t believe in coincidences. The Yssgaroth emerged from the singularity at the same time you were experimenting with black holes. Just one question. Did you do it on purpose?”

Eresian’s short nails were digging into Rassilon’s shoulders now and the other Time Lord winced.

“Yes,” he rasped. 

“Why?”

“The heat of battle and the fires of chaos invite many to raise themselves in stature.”

“You did this for _glory!?_ ”

“Of course not. I did this for _power_. The Pythia have sat resplendent for too long. It’s time for the Time Lords to take their place.” There was a glint in Rassilon’s eyes now that spoke of a latent mania and egotistical narcissism. “I wouldn’t mention this to anyone if I were you. I would hate to think what would happen if it were discovered by the general populace that Vela had a daughter and that one of Gallifrey’s sons dared tarnish her eminence by _copulating_ with her.” 

Eresian’s breath hitched as he slowly backed away, reluctantly releasing his once-friend’s robes. 

“If you speak of my son again I will end you,” he growled. Concern for his own safety had immediately taken a back seat when the purposeful words Rassilon had spoken had truly sunk in. “You are no longer welcome on my lands or near any member of my family. Is that understood?”

“It is, _my lord_.” Rassilon effected a short, mocking bow as Eresian stalked off toward Peylix, mostly to fill him in on what had just happened. Seeing as Peylix was a gentler soul despite the weapons of terror he created for the war there was no doubt as to whose side he would be taking. The Time Lord shrugged. He was a general and while having a pair of cohorts as his equals was infinitely more appealing than a trio of groveling insubordinates Apeiron, Pandak, and Eutenoyar were well up to the task he had in mind for them. 

~*~§~*~

It was late into the evening and for the first time in a year Eresian had actually been able to attend a tactical meeting. 

...Well, _able_ was stretching it a bit... Rassilon had been appointed the Lord General in charge of all of Gallifrey’s forces due to exemplary service in a no-win situation and the death of his predecessor about eight months ago and truthfully both he and Peylix had been avoiding him. 

The man in question smirked at them from the head of the table as he trailed his Artron gauntlet across the map spread before them (It was a pity, truly, that Peylix had finished that and his spear for him before their falling out). His officers and field generals were spread on either side of the table as Eresian followed Peylix into the room. 

“Ah, glad that Voranaer could join us,” Rassilon said snidely. There was an uncomfortable shifting of movement in the room; regardless of rank hierarchy and the Lord General’s prowess at strategy most of the other rank officers disliked him for his arrogance and narcissism. He was cold, calculating, and didn’t care about the welfare of the troops. 

“Lord General,” Eresian replied coolly as he went to stand at the opposite end of the table. “I’d say ‘forgive my tardiness’ but after the fight I had to get here I honestly believe there is nothing I should be apologizing for.” 

“Let’s get on shall we?” Colonel Gyn said as she swallowed nervously, breaking the tension between the two men and interrupting what had the beginnings of a square-off. There were immediate echoes of agreement. Rassilon droned on about his supposed ‘perfect plan’ with occasional interjection from other members of the officer’s staff. The longer it went the more Eresian became aware of a stress headache building between his eyes, the pressure making his vision blur. 

He wasn’t sure when he’d stopped paying attention but Peylix’s cool hand lightly shaking his shoulder made the entire room spin before pain blossomed like fireworks and his sight went dark. He went crashing to the floor with a yelp as images and emotion blasted through his synapses. 

~*~§~*~ 

Despite having thoroughly marked both Eresian and Peylix in his little book of enemies Rassilon knew better than to ignore it when his former friend collapsed exhibiting all of the trademark features of a seizure in the middle of a tactical meeting. Eresian and his family had never been known for that medical condition so the chance that he was, in fact, experiencing a temporal vision due to shifting timelines was high enough that it was cause for concern. 

Ignoring the startled titters and chatter of the other officers present Rassilon rushed to Eresian’s side and knelt opposite Peylix as they lowered him to the floor, whereon Peylix frantically checked over his vitals as he continued thrashing.

“Is it what I think it is?” Rassilon hissed as he shifted to block what was happening from the others present.

“Medically he should be fine,” Peylix muttered back. “I don’t see- oh.”

“‘Oh’ indeed,” Rassilon breathed. Peylix had opened one of Eresian’s eyes to check for pupil response only to find that both irises were blazing a bright burning gold, awash with raw eternity. He glanced at his other once-friend and hesitated before asking. “Has this ever happened before?”

“First time,” Peylix sighed. He sat back on his haunches and further blocked the view as he ran a hand through his hair. “Some days I wish we were still in the Academy. It was all so much simpler back then.”

“Doesn’t everyone wish for peaceful days since gone?”

“If they don’t, then there is reason to pity them.” 

Eresian stilled as if exhausted and after a few more moments he let out a gasp, sitting bolt upright and groaning in pain as he rubbed at his temples whilst the gold aura faded from his eyes. 

~*~§~*~

Eresian nursed the cup of tea that had been offered to him and let his head fall back against the rest of the couch with a tired exhale that left him limp. His head was throbbing and little dark spots were floating in his field of vision, but what troubled him more was what he had seen. 

...And the group of extremely confused, concerned, and curious officer staff whispering fiercely to one another in the adjacent room. 

Peylix and Rassilon were waiting patiently for him to say something, anything, and he was grateful that neither felt the need to press. 

“So,” Eresian murmured after a long sip of tea. “I’m assuming you have questions?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Peylix coughed. “Has that ever happened before?”

“No. I wouldn’t say I found it pleasant either.”

“So it was a vision then?” Rassilon asked calmly. 

“Yes.”

“What did you see?” Eresian drew his legs up against his chest and shuddered.

“Everything,” he whispered hoarsely. “Everything. It hurt _so much_.” He cleared his throat with a ragged breath. “What you’re planning tomorrow, it will end in bloodshed and death. No chance of victory.”

“None whatsoever!?” Peylix yelped. The chattering in the next room over abruptly ended and the three of them turned to see the door open a tiny crack. Eresian sighed, rubbing at his face.

“Let them in, they’ll hear about it soon enough anyway.” 

“Enter,” Rassilon said in a commanding voice. Sheepishly, the other officers of the staff filed in. 

“The first- first thing first,” Eresian began reluctantly, “I’m the next Hero after my mother, not my elder brother Faerven. For obvious reasons we didn’t wish to broadcast that. And I... I saw a vision.”

They all listened to him describe in great detail what was to happen if they followed Rassilon’s current plan of action; death, defeat, and total destruction. Eresian admitted openly that he was still learning how to scry the timelines with accuracy and that his interpretation was sketchy at best when it came to the correct path, but he was able to provide an accurate enough nudge in the right direction. The solution was remarkably simple and would take only a few months to set underway.

_Bowships._


	11. Battle of Wills

The night before the final assault he awoke to feel a warm hand caressing his cheek, and rolling over with a groan he pulled his bond mate down on top of him.

Arione snuggled against his chest and they both took a moment to breathe in each other’s scent, the proximity of touch doing little to ease the pain of being properly separated for the last seven years even as they became reacquainted with featherlight touches and soft crying; tears of relief and desperation mingling together in release of sorrow. 

“Arione,” Eresian murmured softly as he pressed kiss after kiss to her temple and enjoyed the spark of enhanced telepathic contact between them each time he did so. “Not that I’m not grateful but how are you here?” 

“I saw in a vision that I was needed and so I came,” she whispered. 

“Do your visions... hurt?” He asked hesitantly. Arione pulled back slightly and cupped his face in her hands. 

“Oh Eresian... no. They don’t. I was born of Time, and time flows through my veins. But I remember... when I was human. I remember my mind burning as it strove to understand what it saw in the overwhelming enormity of the Vortex. You had your first vision, didn’t you?”

“Faerven warned me they would cause great pain until I became acclimatized to them. But that was... it hurt so much-”

“You’re fortunate that you’re bonded to the Daughter of the Time goddess,” Arione soothed, kissing him gently on the lips. “There are exercises I can perform with you to help your mind adapt without having to do that when you’re in the grips of a vision, which rather violently exposes you to the changes.”

“You’d Do that?”

“Mm. Why not? ‘s not like a bond mate to allow their spouse to suffer when they don’t have to.” 

“Yeah?” 

“‘Course. Now, tonight we rest because tomorrow? Tomorrow will be one of the busiest days of our lives. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Eresian whispered as he wrapped his arms about Arione’s waist and rolled them both onto their sides. She immediately curled in against him and he couldn’t hold back a purr as her hot breath caressed a soft breeze across the arm she was using as a pillow. 

Dawn broke red and bloody. He awoke to find that the spot next to him was cold and saw Arione standing at the opening to the tent with a soft but thin blanket wrapped over her tensed shoulders. Without turning to look at him she whispered, 

“There’s this... saying on Earth. ‘Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.’” At that, she _did_ turn. The set to her mouth was serious as she strode back over to the cot and sat beside him, smoldering eyes pinning him in place. “It’s a moniker for remembering how to interpret the weather when you’re out on the ocean. Whether good times or bad times are coming. It’s not going to be easy out there.” 

“Either we fight or we get erased from existence,” Eresian murmured, leaning over to trail soft kisses down her neck. He nipped lightly at her pulse point and she hummed in appreciation as he withdrew to stroke her jaw with his thumb. “No matter how bad it gets the alternative is infinitely worse.”

“Mm...” Arione stood again, ignoring his mewl of protest, and offered him her hand. While he was getting dressed she explained that she would get the TARDIS prepared if he would go and find Peylix for her. Confused but trusting, he went off to complete his task.

If it was any consolation Peylix was even more confused than he was. But then again, Arione just had that effect on people in general. She smiled at them as they came through the door and flicked the switch to dematerialize. 

“Is Rassilon in position?” She asked. Eresian nodded.

“Yes. He’s leading the Bowships in a full frontal assault against the Yssgaroth forces. _Despite_ my strong recommendations otherwise.”

“He took precautions at least,” Peylix sighed. “I suppose we shouldn’t expect much more than that. Now, why did you want me here?” Arione’s eyes darkened. “What?”

“I need to ask something great of you,” she murmured. “Rassilon wants you to join the main assault, but I need you to hold back until seven minutes past twelve.”

“May I ask why?” 

“You may come in late, but the surprise will be enough for one last rally,” she explained before frowning. “Unfortunately, this won’t make you all that popular with the advance guard. They’ll name you.”

“Name me... what?”

“‘The Last.’” Peylix grimaced. 

“Well, I would rather be known for being late than for being the reason we lost the war,” he said after a few moments. “I’ll do it.” The relief on her face was palpable. 

“Thank you.” Peylix nodded and, when the TARDIS landed at his command post, he got off with a small, tense smile.

“And what are we doing, darling?” Eresian asked once the doors had closed. Arione’s eyes were dark.

“Finishing what Rassilon thinks will be easy yet cannot do,” she growled. Eresian sighed, ruffling the hair at the base of his neck. 

“Typical.” 

“He’s always been a glory hound, but I still can’t believe he’d jeopardize the war like t-“

“He let them through in the first place to gain respect and recognition,” Eresian said quickly, waiting tensely for her response.

“...He did what?” She gasped, horrified. “Eresian, why haven’t you come forward?”

“He threatened you, me, our son...”

“How.”

“If the vast majority of our people found out I was married to the daughter of the Time goddess, let alone had a child with her...”

“...Oh...” Arione’s burning eyes hardened into fiery amber. “That conniving little-“

“Let’s just focus on the here and now, okay?” Eresian said gently, resignedly. “I’ve known for a few years and Peylix and I have been working hard to find a way around him... you know... but we haven’t yet.”

“Why didn’t you _say_ anything!?” She exclaimed.

“I knew how you’d react, for starters,” he muttered pointedly. 

“And how, _pray tell_ , would I react?”

“You’d yell at me,” Eresian said in a pitiful voice as he flashed her overdramatically-vulnerable golden puppy dog eyes. Arione groaned, slapped her forehead, and then dragged her hand down her face before glaring at him and conceding the point. 

“We’ve got a battle to win, but don’t think for a minute this conversation is over mister,” she warned. He nodded sagely. “And puppy dog eyes? Really? You’re a general.” Another nod. 

~§§~

As Rassilon lined up their forces for a final assault, Eresian piloted his TARDIS toward the fringes. The tide was not turning in their favor and they were losing solely, having fallen into the trap Eresian had foreseen to begin with; just when all seemed lost, Peyton arrived with his men and took the enemy by surprise. The resulting chaos opened a wide channel in the ranks straight to the enemy stronghold, and Eresian slid through before it closed. 

When they landed Arione strode purposefully over to the coat-stand and pulled on a white jean jacket over her soft pink tunic. He watched each tiny movement with awe and love, and glancing over her shoulder at him she smiled. 

“We’ll make it out of this,” she assured him quietly. 

“I know,” he murmured as he double-checked the security of the sheathe on his dagger. “I’ve seen it.” 

“Mm. Useful, that.” 

“Mm. Quite.” Arione kissed him lightly on the cheek and caressed the spot with her thumb before taking a deep breath and striding out the doors. He followed on her heels. 

Their bond flared between them as they moved across the battlefield like avenging holy warriors (which in many ways they were), effortlessly anticipating one another’s movements and covering each other’s weak spots. Eresian moved to bolster Peylix’s flank and Arione filled the gap he’d left in doing so. 

He was unrivaled in swordsmanship, but she shone brighter than than the suns in the sky with her fierce brilliance. Vampires shied away from her screaming, their paper skin burning, and together they cut a path to the front of the fighting where Rassilon was outnumbered and flailing.

“Took you long enough!” He shouted crossly. 

“Don’t presume to tell the daughter of Time when she should appear,” Arione snapped as Peylix flinched. He cast a grateful look at his future sister-in-law and continued forward. “You didn’t listen to Eresian when he told you how to win, so I took matters into my own hands.” 

Rassilon scowled as he was chastised, angrily trying to catch up to Peylix as he swept over the battlefield unhindered. The vampires fled before his forces, scattered and disorganized, and before long the drones were routed. The Time Lords moved to challenge the Great Vampires, the King Vampire specifically, and at that point Rassilon took to the Bowships to overpower the enemy. The last battle of the Eternal Wars was over.

~§§~

“We’ve won,” Peylix breathed softly as he looked out across the battlefield. Eresian nodded as he pressed a kiss against Arione’s temple and purred when she hummed in response.

“You two are incorrigible,” Faerven muttered exasperatedly as he came up to them.

“Go away,” Eresian muttered with humor. “We’re busy.” 

“I can see that.” 

“I want to go home,” Arione murmured. “I miss Cal.”

“Then let’s go.” 

~§§~

It’s two days later and a bunch of paperwork that all four of them pile into Eresian’s TARDIS, each taking up a position around the console and landing back at the ancestral home of Voranaer. Faerven was out the doors first with Peylix on his heels; one went to Cevea, the other to Zahnah so that he could ask her to marry him. Eresian and Arione followed far more slowly as they locked the door and stepped out into the office, moving softly down night-darkened corridors and slipping noiselessly into their son’s room.

Caldeon was asleep, his arms wrapped around a stuffed animal, but Eresian scooped him up and held him close regardless. He cried into his son’s hair as he sat on the bed, Arione murmuring gently and nestling against his side and stroking the copper locks away from Cal’s startled eyes. 

“You’re home,” she whispered soothingly. “You’re home. We’re here. It’s okay.” 

“I love you,” Eresian choked. “I love you so much.” He took a deep breath as he looked out the window, eyes soaking up the landscape of the place of his birth. “I’m home...”


	12. Revolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mention of Mass Miscarriage and Infertility. This chapter delves into the Curse of the Pythia very lightly and nothing is explicitly mentioned or graphic. But still, these topics are mentioned somewhat off-handedly, and I wanted my readers to be aware if these are sensitive topics for them.

Five years to the day after the end of the Eternal War Eresian awoke from a rather vibrant dream to the feeling that something was not quite right in the world. Shaking his head slightly, he gently moved out from under Arione’s tight cuddle and got dressed. It was still the middle of the night, everyone retiring to a quiet evening of some sort in their personal suite of rooms, and he was not disturbed as he tread barefoot out into the grass of the back lawn. 

He winced as a vision exploded behind his eyelids, the pain lessened after his extensive training with Arione but not eradicated completely. 

_Fire. Fire and blood, and a world in pain._

“Peylix!” Eresian shouted, running for the house. Doors opened left right and center as he rushed down the hall and came skidding to a halt to bang on his brother-in-law’s door. It opened abruptly; Peylix blinked at him with bleary eyes and Zahnah peered around his shoulder with a sour expression on her face. 

“Do you have _any_ idea what time it is?” She complained. 

“I’ve had a vision,” Eresian explained, all too uncomfortably aware that the entire house was his audience at the moment. “It’s not clear, but Rassilon... we have to try to stop him.”

“From what?” Peylix asked, uneasy. 

“Revolution.”

~§§~

Rassilon had been riding high on his status as a war hero ever since the war itself had ended, using it to finagle his way into politics and quickly ascending to the position of Lord President. The President and the High Council were still subject to the Pythia, merely representing the common man before them, and he had chafed and schemed from the moment he’d risen to that low prestige for something greater. 

Late night meetings and the gathering of like-minded individuals with the help of his lackeys (namely Eutenoyar, Pandak, and Apeiron) had yielded the fruits of unrest from the seeds of discontent. as Eresian and Peylix traveled to the Panopticon in Eresian’s TARDIS, they both privately reflected on their mistake in ignoring their once-friend. 

The area surrounding the Panopticon was on fire when they landed, and stepping out the doors of the ship prompted both to devolve into coughing fits as smoke surged into their lungs. 

“What has he done!?” Peylix exclaimed, kneeling down to inspect the body of a Pythian Acolyte in horror. Eresian growled under his breath and unsheathed his dagger, the blade glittering with time as it lengthened into his sword. 

“I don’t know, but I hope we’re not too late,” he muttered. “The Pythia are my long-lost cousins. Every single one of the Twelve in the Inner Circle are like me.” 

“Descendants of Asheun... Eresian, what if- what if we got here too late? What happens?”

“It doesn’t bear thinking about.” 

“No, no.” Peylix put his hand on his friend’s chest and brought them to a halt. “I’ve followed your lead on everything, and I’ve been content with that. But I have more than myself to think about now. My little one, your niece or nephew. I want them to have a chance to be born, to grow up strong and happy. So, just- I need to know what we stand to lose.” Eresian closed his eyes that often saw far too much and sighed.

“Peylix. If we got here too late, then... then all of Gallifrey will suffer the wrath of the Pythia. What that entails, I don’t know. But it won’t be good, and recompense will be swift and terrible.” He winced. “I... I don’t know what I’m capable of yet, not in entirety. But they do. They know the full extent of their abilities, and there are twelve of them. There’s just one of me.”

“Yeah... but you’re something special,” Peylix murmured with a soft if tense smile. “Now, come on. Let’s make sure we’ve got a planet left standing once Rassilon’s done with it.”

They ran through the rubble of the Panopticon following the sound of the fighting and soon cake upon the inner chamber of the Pythia itself. The Twelve were... well, they were now The One. Acolytes cowered in the shadows as Rassilon circled the High Priestess, so named Pythia herself, where she lay in a pool of her own blood upon the floor. 

“Rassilon, no!” Eresian shouted, starting forward. 

“Don’t try to stop me, Eresian!” Came the barked reply. “This has been a long time coming!”

“You should listen to the Haęon,” Pythia coughed, blood dribbling down her chin. “He sees far more than you.” 

“Rassilon, please-” Peylix started only to be cut off.

“You’re not really in a position to ask anything of me, _Omega_. Neither of you. I shall do as I please.”

“Have you forgotten who really threw the spear that plucked out the eye of the King Vampire, Rassilon?” Eresian asked softly. Rassilon grit his teeth in annoyance. 

“I owe you _nothing,_ ” he spat. 

“Even so. For the sake of Gallifrey, don’t follow this path. It will bring only pain. Suffering across all the planet.” He shuddered as his eyelids fluttered closed, masking the flash of gold creeping into them. “Wailing and blood in the streets...”

“I will finish what I started,” Rassilon growled, raising his spear. Pythia cackled softly, her eyes blazing white as she slammed her hand upon a seal in the floor. 

“I curse the male seed of this world,” she rasped. “The rains will come, but the spring will bring sorrow. All wombs, every one, will be as barren as the deserts of the North. All that is unborn will fail by nightfall.”

“No!” Peylix shouted. 

“Go home,” Eresian whispered. “Now. Be with Zahnah.” Peylix fixed wide, scared eyes on his brother-in-law and once friend and fled. “Are you happy, Rassilon? You’ve killed his child.”

“The Looms were already underway long before the curse,” Rassilon said unconcernedly. “They will merely increase their production tenfold.” His eyes glittered in the dim light. “And our race will be _perfectly formed_.” 

“You planned this,” Eresian realized, pausing in his circling as Rassilon stood poised to strike the final blow. “You wanted this.”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Why?”

“All corrupted souls seek power,” Pythia wheezed, clutching at her chest and glaring up at them. “This one is no different. And it will consume him.”

“I seek control, witch!” Rassilon spat. 

“Then listen. I will prophecy one last time. And this one is about you.” The tip of the spear lowered slightly. 

“Speak. Know that it will not stay my hand. And if I dislike what you say, I will first cut out your tongue before striking the killing blow.”

“Of course,” she hissed. Eresian flinched as wailing started up in the city all around them, and he clutched at his head as grief flashed over the telepathic field of his house and family. Pythia’s eyes glowed a soft gold in the dim light and Rassilon leaned in slightly in anticipation. 

“ _Burn his feathers still he flies_

_Stab his hearts and there he lies_

_A Haęon’s life for your gain_

_Fire burns red; blood still stains_

_When all he is is reduced to ash_

_Feuds will still but teeth yet gnash_

_And at the height atop your zenith_

_Watch the dust; arose a Phoenix.”_

Rassilon, who had at first appeared pleased at being given his own prophecy, snarled and drove the spear home through her mouth.

“Lying snake!” He spat, cleaning the blood from his weapon and slinging it back across his back. He glared at Eresian as he stood frozen by the door, point of his sword trailing on the ground. “Make sure Peylix is there at the Pythia’s Palace tomorrow. I need both of you by my side to address the masses.” He fixed Eresian with a look. “Especially you, _Haęon_.” 

After he had left, Eresian turned to the Acolytes and sighed. All the young women were terrified.

“You have a monastery on Karn, correct?” He asked. One of them nodded. “Then go. I fear you will be hunted here, but your presence is not known there but to my House.”

“Why are you helping us?”

“However distantly, we are kin. And I honor our blood.” 

“Thank- thank you,” one of them gasped as they all ran for the shuttle hangar, leaving him alone in the room amidst devastation.

~§~

It soon became apparent in the months that followed that the people of Gallifrey were devoted to following the heroes of the Eternal War, and so it was that the Founders of Time Lord society we’re Rassilon with Apeiron, Eutenoyar, and Pendak. But Peylix, who thanks to Rassilon was known as Omega, and Eresian were silent except when support and advocation for the people was needed. 

The House of Voranaer had gone dark to mourn.


	13. Eye of Harmony

_“Eresian, Eresian help!”_

“Peylix!” 

_“Eresian!”_

“Peylix, No!”

Eresian shot bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat, with Arione clinging to him trying to calm him down. They both flinched as a stricken cry echoed through the house and shuddered as they felt Peylix’s mind grow quiet in their Memory Tree. 

“Zahnah,” Eresian whispered hoarsely, swallowing thickly as tears streamed down his face. He quickly got up and donned his robe, tying it as he ran down the halls toward his sister’s and - until that moment - brother-in-law’s room. Riven, Midia, Teanai, and Kassia were holding her as she sobbed in her bed, and the thudding of footsteps alerted him to the fact that Faerven was right behind him.

“Eresian,” Kassia whispered as she stroked their younger sister’s hair. “What happened? I heard you screaming in your sleep before...”

“Pretty sure the whole house heard,” Riven muttered. “Mother wasn’t half as loud as you are when you have a night vision, I swear...” 

“His are more intense due to his Bond with Arione,” Faerven said smoothly. 

“I- it wasn’t a vision,” Eresian said slowly. “It was like he was falling, and he was screaming for me through the connection with the Memory Tree. He used our Friendship Bond as a further beacon to call to.”

“He called to me and I couldn’t answer,” Zahnah sobbed, clutching at her head. “It was like I was paralyzed.”

“There was a wall between he and I,” Eresian affirmed with a nod. “I could hear him, but he couldn’t hear me.”

“But- what _happened!?_ ” Teanai asked, eyes wide and scared. “For him to be that desperate to attempt a connection at such a great distance...”

“Rassilon,” Arione said quietly from the door, startling them. Her eyes were blazing gold but her voice was dark. “Peylix detonated the device. He created the Eye of Harmony. But Rassilon rigged it, and he...” she trailed off, glow fading as she regarded her sister-in-law with concern. 

“He’s supposed to _be_ here,” Zahnah gasped, hyperventilating and beating her fists against her temples. “And he’s _gone_. I- my head- it’s so empty...” 

Gently, Arione grasped Faerven and Eresian by the elbows and led them out into the hall before softly closing the door behind her. 

“Peylix was the first,” she whispered meaningfully, gaze drifting over to her Mate. “This House will be a threat to him as long as it stands. From now on, one of us needs to be here if the other two aren’t.”

“You think he might try something,” Eresian guessed, swallowing back his anger. Arione’s gaze was steady. 

“I _know._ But... for once... my mother shields my eyes from the future. The fate of our House is in our hands. I cannot see what will happen.”

“Then we’ll fight him,” Faerven growled. “Tonight he killed our brother, and he has made enemies of us all in the process.” 

“The people have turned against the Menti Celesti,” Eresian pointed out despondently. “We no longer have the support of the lesser Houses. He’s promised them prestige and power in his New Order. The Order of the Time Lords.”

“Then, if it is our lot to fall-“ Faerven broke off, shaking slightly and balling his fists as he got control over himself once more. “If it it our lot to fall, then we shall make such an ending as to never be forgotten. Our names may be lost to time herself, but our legacy, the hole that we leave, can never be filled and replaced. We are the Favored of Vela, the descendants of Asheun. And we will not be forgotten.” 

“What- what will Rassilon say of Peylix?” Eresian asked, not really wanting to know the answer. Arione’s voice was grave.

“They’ll make him out to be a martyr, who sacrificed himself for the Time Lord cause. And they will forget his true name, and remember him only as Omega.” 


	14. Crucible

When he went to sleep, it was to the loving caress of his Bond Mate’s breath ghosting across his skin. It was to the chatter of his children and grandchild brushing tenderly against his telepathic awareness. It was peaceful, despite the uneasy knowledge that his brother and time goddess of a sister-in-law had gone on a trip in their TARDIS on an urgent relief mission to Karn. 

When he awoke, it was to a world on fire.

~§~

Faerven wouldn’t often say he was easy to surprise, but Rassilon’s Chancellory Guards did the trick. The home of his birth was aflame around him as he ran and picked up his sword, slipped into the armor he had not worn since the War, and burst out the front doors to confront their attackers. Guards ran into the house as he parried blows and dodged blasts from the new weaponry known as guns. Screams roiled up from the broken windows and doors, and his hearts clenched as many of his extended kin went silent in his mind. Those that managed to escape the collapsing house were gunned down by the guards, his own children and mate among them, and he cried out telepathically in anguish. 

Out of nowhere, a blade making furious strokes appeared by his side. Caldeon had picked up his father’s old armor and old weapon and was fighting like the hordes of the Howling Halls were upon them, soft brown eyes hard as flint and blazing with anger as he protected what was his birthright even as their cousins, their aunts, their uncles and first and second and third once removeds died in agony around them. 

The ground gave a mighty rumble as the Memory Tree split in two and collapsed into a pile of kindling, and the telepathic field of their family snapped in Faerven’s mind. He screamed, striking just as blindly as his desperate nephew, as they ran for the smouldering stables and mounted the fastest and largest steed. Caldeon clung to his uncle’s back as hot tears washed clean tracks in the ash coating their faces as they ran from all that they knew seeking help from the Outsiders still left in Arcadia. 

Rassilon had done his best to cleanse the planet of non-Gallifreyan persons following the arising of the prophecy of the Hybrid, but such things took time and he might be a Lord of it but it was not a domain he had any true control over. 

It took a few hours, the whine of high-speed engines always on their heels, and when the shining lights of Arcadia glimmered through a bloody sunset Faerven veered sharply to the left of the large gates. There were guards waiting. Their Elupáfi was tiring even as it made a valiant effort to climb the steep incline of the rocky hills, and it was here they finally gained an advantage. The speeders weren’t equipped for this type of terrain, meaning Rassilon would have to pursue them on foot. 

“Where are we going?” Caldeon asked.

“There’s a valley up ahead,” Faerven explained. It has a river in it and that river goes underneath the walls of the city. We should be able to swim under it undetected. Hopefully get in contact with your parents and get off-world.”

“But what about- oh.” 

“Oh, no...” 

The valley had been torn up and put back together again into a new configuration, the cadonwood trees and river replaced by a tangled mess of a half-finished biodome. Fields of Looms were whirring and giving off an unnatural light far below them, the steep but traversable hill leading into the valley cut into a sharp and dangerous cliff. And there was Rassilon on an air-barge rapidly catching up on them. 

They were trapped.

~§~

“Hurry up!” 

“I’m going as fast as I can!” Arione snapped. Eresian huffed as he paced the console room in a circuit while she flew over the controls, coaxing flight out of their ship in a way he’d never seen before. 

“Why did you change the coordinates!?”

“I didn’t! She doesn’t want us to land at the house. She wants us to land somewhere outside of Arcadia.”

“Well, change it back!”

“She might not always take us where we _want_ to go, but she always takes us where we _need_ to go,” Arione snapped, eyes boring into his. “Remember that. It’ll come up later.” 

They landed with a sharp thud that sent them tumbling to the floor, and barely pausing to shake themselves off they rushed out the door to a persecution. 

Red grass was stained with orange-tinged blood in copious amounts, and their son and brother were fighting for their lives backed against the edge of a cliff. With a shout, Eresian drew his sword and activated his gauntlet and joined the fray. Arione was on his heels using her powers to even the odds of the sheer numbers against them, and for a few moments things seemed to be turning in their favor.

Then a blow caught Faerven’s shoulder and he went down, shot in the chest, and blood poured from the wound as his skin abruptly paled. He flailed for a few moments before going eerily still, and Caldeon screamed as the Chancellory Guard kicked him indifferently off the cliff into the Looms below. Distracted, he left his flank open and Rassilon grabbed him by his hair.

“No!” Eresian begged, falling to his knees. “Rassilon, no! Please! He’s just a boy!”

“And he carries your blood in his veins!” Rassilon countered, smiling sadistically before throwing Caldeon to the ground. The boy had just enough time to rise to his feet before Rassilon’s spear pierced through his back and came out of his chest, severing the main arteries to both hearts in one fell swoop. “Blood I am more than happy to water Gallifrey’s sands with in the hopes that it will rain.” 

The familial bond of parents and child wavered for a few moments before severing violently, and Eresian collapsed fully onto the ground as he writhed in the dirt and clutched at his temples. Distantly, he heard Arione scream in anguish and crawled toward the sound only to have a heavy boot slam into the center of his back. 

Clarity snapped into sharp focus and long-honed battle skills resurfaced. He drew his sword upward into the kneecap and the guard shrieked, withdrawing, so Eresian used the opportunity to roll away and spring to his feet. Hot tears stung his cheeks as he ran straight for Rassilon, and sword and spear met in a violent clash of metal as they fought. His swings were vicious but uncoordinated due to his blind fury, and Rassilon had the advantage. 

Guards approached, but several disintegrated on the spot and the rest stood back as Arione guarded her husband with fierce loyalty. The power of Time shone brightly from her hair and skin and her eyes burned so brightly they couldn’t stand to look at them. 

The last of the Pythia’s Mages approached and didn’t fear her as the guards did, and soon a fight was on her hands as she struggled to maintain the upper hand. 

Eresian cried out as Rassilon swept his feet out from under him, and terror pierced his hearts as he stumbled near the edge and it crumbled under his heels. Rassilon grabbed him by the throat, a strange gauntlet shining brightly with blue energy as it seemed to sap Eresian’s strength from him where it touched the skin of his neck, and he scrabbled uselessly at it as a Rassilon held him against the cliffs. 

“We could have done this together, you know!” Rassilon shouted over the sounds of battle. “You and Peylix both! We would have been gods!”

“There are five gods you should be concerned about Rassilon,” Eresian wheezed. “And you will never be one of them.” The grip tightened and he choked, fighting for air. He had two choices. Let Rassilon kill him at spear point like he had killed his son, or break free and die by the Looms. Neither was painless, and neither offered a way out. The only difference was that one was on his terms. And...

Hazy gold obscured Eresian’s vision as the two paths opened before him. If Rassilon were to spear him, his head would be mounted on the pike and paraded through the streets. He would be proclaimed the enemy of Time Lord society and written off by history as a great evil the mighty Lord President had lain low. But the Looms...

He could see it. The guards would remember what had happened well enough, see the desperate act of a martyr rather than the execution of a malcontent. Rassilon would attempt to make the world forget, striking his name from every record until he was known only as ‘The Other,’ true name lost to time itself. A legend, a love story of the man who fell in love with the Time Godess’ daughter. Whispers that he would be reborn in the Looms to be reunited with her. Ridiculous, not taken seriously and seen as a bedtime story for children. 

And yet... 

He could see them, all of them. All of him. A new life stretching on, gallivanting across the stars. Arione returning to him when the time was right. He could see the new life he would be offered, not knowing his unconventional ancestry. Eresian’s throat closed, and it had nothing to do with Rassilon’s stranglehold. He could see his older brother, some of Faerven’s mannerisms shining through but never rising to the surface. All that was left of his brother when his body had fallen into the Looms made new in the future, a shadow of his former self but oh so alive and real. 

He could see the man he would become. Who Arione, Rose, would fall in love with and return to.

_If you could touch the alien sand and hear the cries of strange birds, and watch them wheel in another sky, would that satisfy you?_

_There are some corners of the universe which have bred the most terrible things. Things which act against everything we believe in. They must be fought._

_Courage isn’t just a matter of not being frightened, you know. It’s being afraid and doing what you have to do anyway._

_Well, there isn’t anything wrong. Well, there isn’t anything_ important _wrong. But I’ve got to check, haven’t I?_

_There’s a probability of anything. Statistically speaking, if you gave typewriters to a treeful of monkeys, they’d eventually produce the works of William Shakespeare._

_Planets come and go. Stars perish. Matter disperses, coalesces, forms into other patterns, other worlds. Nothing can be eternal._

_Anybody remotely interesting is mad in some way._

_That is what terrifies me. That certainty. You start believing only in absolutes. Well, isn’t that exactly_ who _you’re fighting?_

_Nine hundred years of time and space, and I’ve never been slapped by someone’s mother._

_I try to keep you away from_ major _plot developments. Which, to be honest, I seem to be_ really _bad at..._

_Well, I just saved the world, the whole_ planet _, for about the millionth time, no charge. Yeah, shoot me! I kept the clothes!_

_Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?_

And he knew it was good. 

“Well, Eresian? Have you nothing to say?” Rassilon taunted, loosening his grip ever so slightly to allow him the ability to speak.

“B- burn- my feathers,” Eresian bit out, satisfied when Rassilon’s eyes widened in fear. “Still I fly. Stab- my hearts, and there I- I lie. My life- for your gain- fire burns red. Blood does stain. And- and when all I am- is reduced to ash... these feuds have stilled, but teeth yet gnash. And at the height atop your zenith-“

“No-“

“Watch the ash, for I am the Phoenix.” Eresian brought his knee up sharply into Rassilon’s groin. The man crumpled with a sharp exclamation of pain, and Eresian fell backward off the cliff. 

_Ari, love?_ Eresian called softly, telepathically. 

_Eresian?_

_I’ll see you on the other side._

~§~

Arione screamed as the Bond tore, severing cleanly in two, and as she fell to her knees the Mages and any guards unfortunate enough to be close to the fallout around her burst into ash. The few remaining guards did nothing as she stalked over to Rassilon and grabbed him by the collar of his robes, bringing her face close to his.

“You want _power_ , Rassilon?” She hissed, eyes burning a bright and burning gold. Her hair shined so bright it had turned white. “You want _immortality?_ Then you’ll get it. As long as Gallifrey exists, you too shall live. But you will age, and you will die. Over and over and over again, until your thirteen lives are spent. You can gain no more, and lose no less. This is your curse. When you die for the final time, your existence will be but that of a wraith begging for the sweet release of death. Step foot off this planet, and your life is forfeit. No longer will the universe cower before your conquest.”

Disgusted, she threw him to the ground with a growl. 

“I remember who I am now,” she murmured softly. “The Bond tore. The trauma brought everything back, and now it’s time I go home. But you. You’ve gotten everything you ever wanted, Rassilon. I hope it was worth it.”

“You can’t leave me like this!” Rassilon protested as she walked away from him, stumbling and falling to the ground. “Arione!”

“Enjoy your victory, Rassilon. The Time Lord Victorious.” 

_Take me home, mother,_ she whispered in her mind. The song of Time whispered back, and then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...What, you guys thought this would have a happy ending?


	15. Memory

_The Cybermen were on her heels. Jake cocked his gun and shot her a sad look; his once-spiky platinum peroxide blond hair was entirely white now and hung limply to curl at his ears._

_“Go,” he whispered. “I’ll hold them off.”_

_“Jake...”_

_“First Pete, then Tony,” Jake snapped. “They’ve taken everything from us. I’m old, Rose. And this universe is done for. Go home.” Rose inhaled sharply as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek._

_“Thank you,” she sobbed. And then, with the grace and agility of an immortal mid-twenty year old, she ran. She ran for Torchwood’s archives, ran for the Dimension Cannon project. She never made it._

~§§~

“Is she alright, grandfather?” A young girl’s voice asked. 

“I’m not sure Susan,” came the thoughtful reply. 

Rose blinked open her eyes and let out a pained gasp as she regained consciousness on the sidewalk of what appeared to be 1960s London. And it felt like _her_ London. The Doctor - with his combed-back white hair and cane, his first incarnation - frowned at her and knelt onto his heels to check her pulse. She flinched back, trying to avoid contact.

“No, wait-“ He gasped as his Soulmark activated, connecting them, and quickly stood to take a good few steps away from her.

“What!?”

“I tried to warn you,” Rose sighed weakly, rubbing her temple to ward off a headache as she slowly moved into a sitting position and checked herself over. “No lasting damage then...”

“What did you say, young lady?”

“Nothing. Jus’ talkin’ to myself. So, what’s new with you?” The Doctor just gapingly stared at her, as if daring her to ignore the obvious as he rubbed idly at his now-active soulmark. “Well, as fun as this has been I’ve got to be going, so...”

“Wait,” he called sharply as she pushed herself to her feet and began walking quickly away from him. The sound of footsteps on the pavement drove her into a run as she rounded a corner. “Wait!” 

“Forget me!” Rose shouted back, glancing over her shoulder and cursing as she tripped on an untied shoelace. Asphalt dug into the palms of her hands as she pushed off and started running again; the fall had cost her her head start. 

“But-“

“Please, Doctor! Just let me go!” The TARDIS loomed ahead of her and sighing in relief she reached out telepathically. « _Hey, girl. Get me out of here?»_

There was a beautiful singing hum of affirmation in her mind, and just as Rose rounded a corner golden light obscured her vision.

Golden light exploded on the other side of the building and the Doctor added extra speed, skidding to a halt with Susan right on his heels when he came around and was presented with an empty street, soft golden sparks fading as they drifted through the air.

“Where’d she go?” Susan asked, frowning. The Doctor sighed, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt to see his soulmark and running his thumb over it with a gentle caress, watching with interest as the shimmering gold energy within the timeline-bound longstem rose swirled and moved. 

“Why didn’t she stay?” He asked softly, hurt. Susan hummed softly as she rested her head on his shoulder, trying to provide comfort. 

~§§~

The second the gold faded from her vision Rose let out a yelp as something slammed into her. She and her unknown assailant went sprawling in deep snow, and as she came up shivering with her shoulders pinned against the ground she found herself looking up into the determined blue eyes of the Doctor with the baggy clothes and recorder.

“Oh, no...” she groaned. 

“Why don’t you want to stay?” He asked quietly. The fight seemed to leave him with her sigh of displeasure, and after a few moments he released her. Jamie and Victoria were standing a little ways off, too surprised by the Doctor’s expert Rugby tackle to do much else. 

“I really wish I could, Doctor,” Rose said softly. He blinked in surprise as she brushed some snow from his Beatles haircut and sat in the bank, apparently unaware he was soaking his trousers. 

“What...?”

“I’m from your future,” she explained as gently as possible, sitting beside him with her legs underneath her and grimacing as cold wetness seeped into her trousers. “Timelines.” She bit her lip. “You didn’t know who I was when we met. Your Mark wasn’t even active. Have I messed this all up?” 

“I- I’ve heard stories of- of Time Lords interacting with their soulmates before they’re supposed to meet, and we have an ability to perform a sort of... reset, really. It shouldn’t be too large of an issue,” he stuttered, gaping at her. “Can I... can I ask your name?” 

“Rose,” she said with a relieved tongue in teeth smile that had his hearts thundering erratically in milliseconds. “Rose Tyler.” She looked around at their surroundings. “Where are we?”

“The Himalayas, somewhen before World War II,” he offered happily. Rose raised an eyebrow. 

“See, what I love most about that is that you actually have no specific idea where or when you are,” she teased. The Doctor’s tentative smile abruptly dissolved into indignant protest and she didn’t bother holding in her laugh.

~§§~

The Doctor smirked to himself when he heard a rather confused series of shouts emanating from the hallway outside of his lab. 

“Benton must have found something interesting,” he chuckled. He then frowned and glanced at his soulmark as the energy within pulsed, looking back at the doors leading into the corridor and raising an eyebrow. “Couldn’t be.” 

“What couldn’t be?” Jo asked curiously from her position cataloguing test results into a spreadsheet. She glanced at the door as the noise intensified. “What on Earth is that?”

“My soulmate,” the Doctor said promptly as the door burst open and Benton went skidding across the floor. He let out a grunt as Yates landed on top of him. “Hello, Rose.”

“Hi Doctor,” she chuckled, tossing him one of the most brilliant grins he’d ever seen before. 

“Figures you’d know the intruder,” Yates sighed as he stood and brushed himself off.

“I should, seeing as she’s my soulmate,” the Doctor explained, leaning against his workbench and ignoring the three people gaping at him as he opened his arms and Rose dashed straight into them.

“What in blazes is- who’s this?” Alastair exclaimed as he stalked in.

“Rose Tyler sir,” Rose introduced, holding out her hand. The Brigadier shook it absently as he studied the intruder and his science officer. 

“Close friend of yours then?” He asked sardonically, eyes widening with amusement as Rose chuckled and kissed the Doctor on the cheek - something that made him let out a tiny squeak of surprise. “Ah. Very, it seems. I’ll leave you to it then. Benton, Yates.”

“Yessir,” they both muttered meekly, trailing after him. Jo shot a single glance at the other two people in the room and, knowing exactly what type of situation propagated a third wheel, made herself scarce. 

“So, whatcha doin’?” Rose asked, leaning on the table and examining the Doctor’s current project. He mumbled around the pen in his mouth, the words unintelligible, but she nodded sagely. “Ah. Trying to measure energy emissions then. Fancy a cuppa?” He opened his mouth to reply, the pen falling to the floor, but was left to watch her saunter casually into the TARDIS without even having to pull out a key. 

Intrigued, he slowly trailed after her to see she had about six or seven different loose teas all out on the counter in the galley and was mixing them together into one blend with a look of utmost concentration on her face. She’d done this in Tibet, he remembered a tad dazedly. He still had a tiny bit left for special occasions somewhere. It was just the image of her so at ease in the TARDIS, like it was her home, that threw him so effortlessly for a loop. 

“Why do you stay with me?” He asked softly. Rose’s shoulders tensed.

“Because you’re my soulmate.”

“But I can’t give you the things other soulmates can,” he sighed. “A home, for starters, and the chance of stable friends and family for another. Home, job... children...” She huffed, turning and leaning against the counter with a stern but sympathetic look on her face.

“The TARDIS is my home,” she explained, as if speaking to a small child in need of a simplistic explanation. “I talk regularly with the people you’ve traveled with. My parents lived and died in a parallel universe I got trapped in, a universe overrun by Daleks that I escaped from before it collapsed. Now I’m trying to get back to you but the TARDIS is in charge of how I get there, and she seems determined to take the scenic route through all your incarnations. I tried the job thing. Hated it. Traveled with you. Got trapped, went back to it. Place called Torchwood. Kinda like U.N.I.T. but parallel. I’ve proven my worth. As for kids...” she pushed herself off the counter and walked to stand in front of him. “Doctor. If I can’t have them with you then I don’t want them.”

He blinked at her, stunned, before a sheepish grimace overtook his features. 

“I’m sorry, my dear. I’ve been cooped up on this singular planet, in this singular time for so long that I’m getting pessimistic with cabin fever.” The resulting evolution of her facial expressions was truly one of the most confusing things he had ever borne witness to.

Rose frowned, then quirked a brow. A slow smirk upturned the left corner of her mouth, then it morphed into a full, sly grin. Finally, it turned into a genuine mirthful smile complete with her tongue stuck between her teeth and she laughed, extending her hand to him. Apprehensive but intrigued, the Doctor took it and yelped in surprise when she burst out of the galley at a run and nearly made him face plant as she dragged him after her. They ran past the very startled Jo Grant, who had been talking with a much-put-upon Alistair, and out into the motor yard. 

At this point he tried directing her toward Bessie, thinking she wanted to go for a drive, but she wasn’t having it. Out through the gates ignoring the bewildered sentries and onto the long, winding road of the secluded once-estate turned military base. They ran for ages until she stopped and he had to skid to a halt not to slam into her.

“Rose, what-“

“Shh...” she soothed, placing a finger on the Doctor’s lips as she looked for something and then smiled when she saw it. 

They ducked down under a low-hanging willow branch and started walking along the shore of a moderately-sized pond. Rose stopped again when they got to a large rock and sat on it to take off her shoes and socks, rolling her trousers up to her knees.

“What are you doing?” The Doctor asked. 

“What does it look like I’m doing? Come on.” Frowning slightly more in confusion than irritation, he watched as she waded up to the middle of her lower legs into the murky pond water. 

“Do you have any idea what’s growing in all of that?” Rose, who had been hunching over slightly and peering into the water, straightened up with a light glint of mischief in her eyes.

“I knew this kid once, when I was growing up yeah? Hair a mess, all lanky limbs despite being this short little bloke. Didn’t know a thing about anything that I did, but I was more than willing to teach him.” The Doctor’s chest constricted as her head tilted slightly, and suddenly he saw the human girl who he had befriended when she was no more than seven and he no more than ten, having gotten lost on Earth accidentally during a school trip. “Does he still eat peanut butter and jam sandwiches with the crust off and experiment with more than one jam at a time despite my best efforts to stop him from doing otherwise and need rescuing from gymnasium foam pits or no? Does he remember the turtle I gave him, that I called Leonardo after my favorite Ninja Turtle? Or did he forget me when he went home?” 

He was stripped down to his ruffled shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, his suspenders, and his trousers rolled to the knee in seconds; his opera cape, smoking jacket, shoes, and socks discarded next to hers on the grass as they looked for turtles. 

“Depending on how many we find, we could get a complete set,” he announced brightly as he chased after one that had slipped under a log. He was beaming with a relaxed childish abandon that came so rarely and Rose bit her lip as a soft smile graced her mouth. Oh, he remembered after all. 

By the time they got back to the lab it was well after dark. They were both covered in mud and grime, but between the two of them they’d managed to grab a turtle. 

“What shall we call him?” Rose asked, chin propped on her hands and her elbows resting on the table as she watched the Doctor set up a small tank for the creature.

“I was always partial to Donatello,” he quipped with a grin. Rose smirked before humming _Oh Danny Boy_ under her breath, the way she hummed ‘Danny’ sounding suspiciously like ‘Donny,’ and he laughed. They were quiet for a few moments and the mood turned pensive. “I wish you didn’t have to go. I’m trapped here, but with you... with you I don’t feel like I’m caged.”

“Keep this then,” Rose said, handing him a somewhat futuristic-looking camera. The Doctor examined it for a few moments, frowning contemplatively, before looking back at her. 

“What for?” 

“You’ll see.” She stood, giving him a hug that he returned desperately, before walking out the doors and - for the moment - out of his life. 

He would later discover that she had taken pictures in the modern day of locations he would eventually go to during his tenure on Earth, the camera beeping like a tracker and flashing on its own accord when he got close. Little tidbits of their lives together, little trivia about certain places he hadn’t known. She turned his forced linear existence into a scavenger hunt to keep things interesting.

~§§~

Somebody tripped over his scarf and partially choked him as he stepped out of the Cambridge faculty building, causing Romana to collide into his back, and all three of them went down onto the ground as K-9 rolled up and regarded them with his typical removed attitude. 

“People should really watch where they step,” Romana muttered as she dusted herself off, blowing blonde locks out of her eyes to glare at the young woman currently trying to figure out which way was up.

“Rose!” The Doctor exclaimed happily, grin wide like the Cheshire Cat’s and his usual unkempt brown curls an explosion of even more atypical chaos.

“Doctor,” Rose laughed, flashing him her tongue-touched grin and tugging his scarf off of him until she was able to wrap it around her like a Snuggie.

“If I give you a Jelly Baby, will you give me my scarf back?”

“Depends on which flavor.” He eyed her critically for a few moments before reaching into a white paper bag and withdrawing two blue ones. She plopped them in her mouth and nodded, draping half the scarf back over his shoulders before twining their fingers together. “So, what’s new with you...”

“Mistress, request clarification,” K-9 asked. Romana blinked, staring after them as they walked across the commons. 

“I have absolutely no idea, K-9.” 

Rose had turned it into a tradition to mix him a new batch of tea every time she showed up, and the Doctor watched her with a soft smile on his face as she worked in the galley and he sat at the table. He’d been explaining everything to do with Shada in excited tones, but now that he was done with his tale there was a moment of comfortable silence. 

Her hair was shoulder-length, done up in a messy bun and her bangs still fell out of it anyway. Blonde, but not dyed. More like it had once been dyed and then she’d gone somewhere and got a permanent pigment change. This time she was wearing a petal pink sundress that ended at her knees, form-fitting white leggings underneath it, and a pair of scuffed trainers. She just...

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He murmured. Rose stopped what she was doing to raise an eyebrow at him and the Doctor blushed. “I’m merely stating a fact.” 

“You don’t usually go beet red when you’re being _factual_ , Doctor,” Rose pointed out, flashing a tongue-touched grin that only made his blush worse. 

“Ah. Yes. Well.”

“I’m done with this,” she said as she dumped the blend into the container he’d been keeping it, putting the other objects in the sink or back in the cupboards and then washing and rinsing her hands to dry them with a towel. “Want to go somewhere? You, me, Romana? I’d love to get to know her if that’s okay.” Wordlessly, he agreed; they found her in the library trying to sort books, and Rose decided to help her. 

The pair chatted and got acquainted, and the Doctor simply watched them. More specifically, watched her. 

“I’ve never heard him this quiet or seen him this attentive before,” Romana whispered as they switched out a shelf. “He’s besotted.”

“Soulmates have that affect on one another,” Rose replied with a soft knowing smile. The Time Lady stifled a giggle and nodded. “Have you met yours yet?”

“No. I will someday, obviously, but the waiting is difficult.” 

“I was nineteen when I met him, but it was still practically unbearable. All the kids at my school pairing off in their teens or even earlier, and then there’s me, waiting.” Whiskey brown eyes softened as they glanced over at the Doctor. “Worth every moment.” 

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“I don’t know how not to.” 

He was quiet after she’d left, as she always left, and Romana let him be for a few days before trying to get him actively engaged in things. While the peace and quiet had been nice for a few days, she was getting concerned.

After about a week he came back around, back to his usual if somewhat annoying self, and then they were in E-Space and there were so many distracting things to get into that Romana could almost convince herself that the Doctor had never been despondent to begin with. 

Except, she did know better. And while Time Lords weren’t experts on relationships, they were observant enough to recognize broken hearts.

~§§~

When the Doctor had regenerated he’d made himself take a blood oath... with himself... to promise to tell Rose how deeply he cared for her the next time he saw her. But now, as he looked up from inspecting a suspicious squirrel and saw her walking toward him with Tegan and Nyssa and Adric from across the park at a medieval festival somewhere near the general location of Colchester, he felt his resolve wavering. 

His current form wasn’t exactly bold when it came to expressing personal feelings and this particular conversation was much more important than any of the other ones he was currently refraining from having. The ramifications were much more severe should he put a step wrong. 

But then she gave him that smile. That beautiful, warm, blazing smile. And his affection for her just _was_ , like it should have been obvious to anyone who saw him (judging by the strange look his companions were giving him it was). 

“Rose,” he breathed. He was moving to hug her before he’d properly registered he should be doing so, engulfing her in a tight embrace as she buried her head into his chest and sighed contentedly. 

“Missed me, huh?”

“Always.” He swallowed. “I... I hate that I barely get to see you. I get it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

“Not to be rude or anything,” Tegan cut in, “but who’s she?” Rose smiled into his jumper as he sighed.

“My soulmate, Tegan. I don’t often get to see her. Our timelines are, to put it mildly, a mess.” 

“Just my natural charm,” Rose teased, shifting to lean against his side so that she could see his companions - who were currently gaping at them. She seemed to sense he didn’t want to let her go, burrowing into his tight almost desperate hold with relaxed concession. “What were you all up to before I got here?”

“There was a harvest celebration in the nearby town,” Nyssa explained promptly. “We were going for the festivities.” 

“Sounds fun.”

“You’re joining us?” Adric asked. Rose raised an eyebrow; if she didn’t know better she would have said he sounded dismayed. Something to ask about later. As it was, she shrugged and smiled. She didn’t bother to pretend she wasn’t aware of the Doctor beaming at her with shining eyes.

“Well, yeah. What part of ‘he doesn’t see me all that often’ escaped your notice?” 

“What time are you from?” Tegan asked eagerly, falling into step beside Rose as the Doctor linked their fingers together and gently tugged her toward the town. A curious Nyssa and a scowling Adric followed behind. 

“I’m from early 21st century London, and late 21st century London in a parallel universe.” She laughed at Tegan’s expression. “Be honest, it wouldn’t make sense for the Doctor’s soulmate to not have _something_ strange going on with them.”

“That argument can go both ways dearest,” the Doctor muttered into her ear with mock-annoyance as the Australian burst out laughing. Rose pecked him on the underside of the chin and hummed happily as his jaw went slack in surprise. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As they approached the small town they could hear the sound of festivities long before they saw it, and humming approvingly Rose tugged on the Doctor’s hand to propel them further. 

Various foodstuffs were laid out on tables, grouped by harvest in breads and vegetables and roasted grains. It was actually a coin toss as to whether they were so readily accepted in due to either the people being overly-friendly or the people being well-intoxicated on various wines and ciders bottled the years prior, but at any rate the Doctor and Rose gathered a few items that caught their interest and moved to the edge to make a small picnic for themselves underneath a sturdy willow tree. 

Partially-screened by the low-hanging curtain of leaves, they laid out on his coat and picked casually at the small bounty they’d gathered. As the shadows lengthened the Doctor became more and more tense, unnoticeable to everyone but Rose, and she smiled at him when he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye for the tenth time in half as many minutes. 

“You okay?” She asked. He made an effort to appear nonchalant and for the most part pulled it off. 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Because you keep looking at me like you can’t decide whether I’m going to be the best thing to ever happen to you or the thing that shatters your hearts into a million pieces.” 

“...Right.” He swallowed several times before standing and holding out his hand; the music of the festival was filtering over. “C- mm. Care to dance?” The moment of nerves was well worth the megawatt smile she gave him as she accepted his hand. 

They started hesitantly at first, merely swaying to the music; he wasn’t much one for dancing, but something about her made him want to try. Eventually she stepped close, trailing gentle kisses on his jaw and then resting her head in the center of his chest. 

“Come on then, what’s wrong?”

“I love you,” he murmured. He felt her smile into his jumper and sighed in relief.

“You do realize, of course, that from my point of view I’ve heard you say that about a million times and you shouldn’t have been worried about my reaction to you saying for the first time from your point of view?”

“Well, _now_ I do,” the Doctor muttered. Rose giggled, then cupped his jaw and stroked his cheek with the pad of her thumb as she looked up into his face. 

“I love you too, ya daft man.” And she kissed him. 

Not like she had before, no. This was different. She kissed him on the lips, long and sensual and entirely perfect yet at the same time nothing like he’d thought his first kiss would be like. For a few moments he stood frozen, stunned, before he reciprocated in like kind. 

~§§~

“You shouldn’t be here.” Rose turned around, wary, and froze when she saw the Time Lord in the dark robes. 

“Valeyard,” she breathed. The Valeyard tilted his head to the side, considering something, before nodding.

“Interesting. I would have thought the Doctor would have kept this aspect of himself hidden from his beloved.” 

“I love all aspects of the Doctor, regardless of their alignment. The dark isn’t always bad. It’s the anger, the pain.” The Valeyard swallowed as she stepped directly into his personal space, hissing as her hand cupped his cheek. “Your dark side is cold, calculating. I burn hot, with raw passion. We compliment each other.” He squeaked in surprise as her eyes blazed gold. “Valeyard, meet Bad Wolf.” 

“...What- what are you!?” He sputtered. Despite his instincts to get away he found himself frozen by awe. 

...And, quite honestly, she was treating him like a person. And not only a person, but a person she loved. That was...

“This is me,” Rose whispered. “I looked into the Heart of the TARDIS to save your life.”

“To save _his_ life.” The correction was automatic and bitter. She smiled softly. 

“You think you’re all the bad parts, don’t you?” She asked. He huffed, nodding. She stopped stroking his cheek to cup his face with both hands and placed a soft, brief kiss on his lips. The Valeyard shuddered and drew in a shaky breath. “Anger comes from maltreatment, whether directed toward you or someone you care about. Fear comes from self-doubt in the ability to defend yourself or protect those you love. Self-hatred... loathing... those come from guilt, perceived failure to live up to the picture someone has of you. For you, your dark side was created out of caring, of loving, too much.” 

“You can stop now,” he growled. The gold faded from her eyes and she was simply Rose. 

“It’s okay to not be all right,” she murmured. Something inside him broke. 

~§§~

The Doctor had been wandering inside the Matrix for the better part of two hours before he finally found the Valeyard, and when he did he had to stop and piece together his scattered thoughts. His brain wasn’t working right. Or maybe it was his eyes. Or, well, they were connected. Maybe it was a malfunction in both. He couldn’t possibly be seeing his soulmate hugging the sum total of his darkest parts, he clinging to her as if she were the only thing keeping him from breaking into a thousand pieces. 

“Rose?” He called softly, hesitantly. The Valeyard’s grip tightened around her desperately.

It’s not until after the Valeyard has let them go - entirely because she asked, the Doctor is sure - and the whole trial is sorted out among the court that they are able to retire to the library for a cup of tea and a good book. He’d read to her in his last incarnation, unwilling to let her leave too quickly, and had found that he thoroughly enjoyed it when she curled against his side with her head on his chest to listen. 

He was halfway through _The Hobbit_ , but he also found he had issues keeping his thoughts from straying to the events in the Matrix. 

“Rose?”

“Mm?”

“What did you say to him to make him break down like that?” She was quiet for so long afterwards that the Doctor began to wonder if she had any intention of answering.

“I learned a long time ago, how to bring you to your knees with just seven words,” Rose murmured. “I’d never said them before today and I don’t intend to ever have to say them again.” 

“But what were they?”

“Just... just know that they would only ever work if I were the one saying them,” she sighed. He frowned at her. 

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” He asked flatly. 

“I hope I never have to.” 

He was both humbled by the power she held over him and the sheer terrifying fact that he trusted her with that power entirely. Not knowing exactly what else to do, he nuzzled at her hair and breathed in her scent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighed. Rose smiled softly, changing her position so that she was facing him rather than the book, and rubbed the tip of her nose against his temple. 

The purring that resulted was loud and enthusiastic as her emotions sparked gently against his sensitive telepathic receptors, and laughing softly Rose kissed him on the mouth whilst keeping her fingers lightly caressing his temple. 

“You know I’m yours, right?” She asked, pausing to draw breath and resting her forehead against his. The Doctor blinked, confused.

“Pardon?”

“I’m yours,” Rose repeated. “There never was nor never will be anyone else for me. If anyone asks you who I am, I’m yours.”

“Is- is this how people begin dating?” He asked, intrigued. She bit her lip to hide a smile and nodded. 

“If you want it to be.”

“Oh, I very much want,” he murmured as he bent his head to capture her lips in another kiss.

~§§~

She was glorious. She was a veritable goddess signifying good times for him whenever she showed up. She was his. She’d said so herself.

She was also incredibly stubborn. 

The Doctor sighed, swinging his umbrella and muttering to himself in irritated Scottish tones as he walked through the factory. It had been their first argument, and to make matters worse she had been right. 

“We’re not going to be one of those couples, are we? No, surely not. I have to be correct _at least_ every once in a while, right? Pretty sure there does not exist a single reality where the woman is correct 100% of the time...”

_“You know the comm channel isn’t muted, right?”_ Ace asked, sounding far too amused.

“Yes, yes,” the Doctor sighed irritably, blushing profusely. 

_“See, I don’t think you do though.”_

“I do _now_.” There was a pause. “Rose isn’t on here is she?” 

_“Nah. You said you didn’t want to talk to her so she said, and I quote, ‘I’ll let him sulk for a while and then we’ll have a chat when he’s had some time to get used to the idea that he’s not always the smartest person in the room.’ On an unrelated note, I like her.”_

“Cheeky-“ he bit back the rest of the sentence and sighed heavily. “Of course you do. She puts me in my place.” Under his breath he added, “very well, too...” 

It had started out like any other adventure, really. Ace had gotten into some social etiquette troubles that were really quite ridiculous when it boiled down to it, and then they were running for their lives. In the middle of it all Rose had shown up with all her usual unexpected pomp and circumstance, a bright flash of gold to brighten his day. They had run together hand clasped in hand and met up with Ace just as the TARDIS came into view, and once safely inside they had reviewed the situation. 

Unsurprisingly, he’d managed to land in the one weekend during a six hundred year stint of peace where a rebellion took place. Since none of the three were particularly concerned about such things, they’d decided to have a wander. Naturally, everything went pear-shaped when they’d got caught by the rebels and pressed into fighting for the cause as it were. Ace had eagerly gone off straight away to help with the demolition team, her rucksack full of Nitro-9 canisters, and that left the Doctor to coordinate the offensive. Rose had asked a perfectly innocent question about spending some quality time together when this was all over - admittedly reasonable and necessary to figure out what they would be planning for the rest of her visit.

Things had gone downhill the moment he’d opened his mouth to tell her that pointless social engagements hardly took priority over the honest work of freeing a populace from a mediocre dictatorship. Quite honestly, he didn’t blame her one bit for getting annoyed. The thing was though, they’d never rowed before. Not from his perspective at any rate, and Rose giving him the silent treatment - worse, leaving him alone with his own self-loathing - was a clear indicator that she knew just how to make him pay for refusing to admit when he was wrong. 

It had been a stressful afternoon, to say the least. 

~§§~

He was at a recently-terraformed Mars garden party of sorts, standing in front of a long rectangular lily pool with a glass of champagne in one hand and his pocket watch in the other. The biodome turned the light of the early evening sun amber, and sighing contentedly the Doctor took a sip of his beverage. He was on a mission for Romana, though until he met his contact he didn’t know why, and as it was the place seemed pleasant enough.

Next thing he knew he was floundering in the lily pool because someone had walked into him. When he realized who it was he laughed, hugging her tightly and kissing her solidly on the mouth before they both clambered out of the water together.

“Fancy you dropping by,” he quipped ecstatically. Rose rolled her eyes and squeezed her hair to get the excess moisture out of it. 

“Must be a huge surprise,” she said sarcastically. He blinked.

“It was, actually.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yes, you see, the further out I get in my regeneration cycle and the longer it takes for you to visit me after I’ve changed, I get my hopes up that I’m supposed to meet you properly.” Something sad flickered through her eyes and those hopes fell. “Ah.”

“Next time,” Rose murmured. “I promise.” She glanced around at the party and smiled, holding out her hand. “Dance with me?”

“Only one I’ve ever considered doing it with,” he breathed back, allowing her to lead him onto the veranda into the throng of other guests. The music was soft but quick, and momentarily he felt his confidence flailing before Rose slipped her arm around his waist and he relaxed. 

“I just want to be with you,” she murmured into his shoulder as her free hand came up to play with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Marry me,” he whispered. Rose paused, stumbling a bit in the dance, and looked up into his face. They were only a few inches off in height in his current body, and with her chin resting squarely in the center of his chest and he looking down as she looked up their noses brushed. But his bright blue eyes were wide and sincere, and...

“What?”

“Marry me,” the Doctor repeated, this time more confidently. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a formal request. After a few moments, Rose smiled. 

“Okay.” It was his turn to stumble, though he quickly regained his footing in the rhythm as he moved them out of the middle of the dance floor and to the side where they could sway instead of have to move all over the place. 

“What did you-“

“I said ‘yes,’” Rose breathed as she reached up to kiss him. She sighed into the burst of their temporary empathic bond as it sprang up between them, having missed the closeness after being separated with a distant connection for so long, but the Doctor - who had never felt it before - shivered. It was like... it was like coming home. “Love you, Doctor.”

“Love you too, Rose.” 

~§§~

She was shining. Her hair shimmered golden, her eyes burned brighter than stars. She emanated raw time and he was in awe of her power and beauty. She was also decidedly _not_ actually Rose.

“Who are you, really?” The Doctor asked, defensive. The apparition shrugged, throwing a feral grin that heightened his unease. Everything was perfect in replication, but just a tiny bit... off. 

“The interface for the Moment,” Not-Rose replied with a smirk. “I was designed to seek out the most meaningful person to the user and become them.”

“So, why is Rose all... goddess...ey?” The interface blinked, brow furrowing slightly. 

“This isn’t Rose.”

“Right. Right. Because this is just an interface.” The Doctor began to pace. “So why her? Why now? What do you think she can possibly accomplish?”

“She can give you hope. Just as she saved you on that ship, both you and Cass, she can save you now. Let her.” 

“I have to destroy my own people, my own planet!” He spat. “How can I possibly have hope?” 

“She gives hope to you, so that you may keep none for only yourself.” The Doctor froze, blinking. He glanced at the button and then at the personification of his fiancée. 

“It’s the Time Lords or the universe,” he sighed. “Right.”

“Do you understand?”

“Don’t focus on the ones you lost, but on the ones you saved.” He swallowed, walking toward the button and placing his hand on it.

“No. Hope not only for yourself, but for all of you. Gallifrey or this universe.” 

She was always saving him, he reflected, as his hand hovered over the button and he steeled himself for the inevitable. Even from himself.

~§§~

He hadn’t forgotten her. He’d expected it, really. It should have happened. But the day she met him his Mark was still active, hidden under his jumper and jacket. She was, from his point of view, still his fiancée. 

He hated pretending that this was just as new for him as it was for her, but it was tempered by his being allowed to get to properly know and connect with her. The price of keeping that tiny piece of himself hidden was more than paid by the honesty he gave her when it came to his past. 

Rose was perfect, and he watched her skate on Woman Wept with hearts so full in his chest that he felt they might burst. She skated up to where he was standing under a frozen wave and he held her lightly by the arms so that she didn’t crash into him.

“Having fun?” He asked with a soft smile. 

“I love you,” she sighed happily as she cuddled against his chest. The Doctor’s hearts thudded painfully against the interior of his ribcage.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Love you too,” he hummed, planting a kiss on the top of her head. She giggled against his jumper and the first purr he’d ever had since prior to the Time War rumbled through his chest, which made her laugh harder. 

~§§~

“You’re sure this is okay?” The Doctor asked. They were sitting in the medbay with the conclusive data of Rose’s altered physiology up on the screen, the fact that she could understand the swirling Gallifreyan and that she could hear the TARDIS singing in her mind more of an indicator than anything else that she was different. She could feel him, too, hovering on the fringes of her telepathic awareness. He was hesitant to ask to connect; he’d just regenerated less than a full day ago, deposed the Prime Minister, and then scanned her and discovered that she was a sort of Gallifreyan-Human Hybrid after her stint as Bad Wolf. 

“You mean, ‘am I okay with outliving my mum and best friend?’” Rose asked pointedly. The Doctor winced, then gaped at her when she merely shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Jack’s got a really long lifespan so we’ll see him for ages, and honestly when we get out of here we need to scan him too to put him at ease. But I get to be with you, for your forever, and neither of us will ever have to be alone ever again.” 

“Rose...” the Doctor swallowed, wincing as he remembered that they’d become separated later in the future but remembering that she was in the process of getting back to him as well. “I don’t know what to tell you. If I had access to better laboratories... but Gallifrey is gone, and I have no idea where I put it when it got relocated. I can’t give you specifics.”

“I don’t need specifics,” Rose countered, snuggling against him and running her fingers through his hair as they rested their foreheads against each other’s. “I love you, I want to be with you. And now I can.” He gasped as her fingers brushed against his temples and her consciousness sparked against his. “Just let me do that, okay?” 

They sank into one another’s minds and just savored the intimacy for a good long time before Jack, in a double team with Jackie for interrupting their quiet moments, all but dragged them into the Tyler flat for a proper Christmas dinner. 

_She fell toward the Void, his hearts seizing in panic, and it did little to assuage his fears that Pete caught her. She was on the other side of the wall, and he sank down against it with his temple pressed against the smooth white surface for as long as he could sense her before the rift sealed enough that the connection was lost. Afterward, he dropped his head into his hands and cried._

~§§~

It was on one of her TARDIS-guided jumps that she fell through the Vortex. Her mind burned, and Time called her home. She was needed elsewhere, and he would always need her. His name was Eresian, and she would always love him. 


	16. The End of Time

Rose wanted to cry when she stepped from the Time Vortex into modern Gallifrey, the day before it burned. She forced herself to ignore it and instinctively ran for the Panopticon, pushing through an entire assembly of startled Time Lords to the platform where Rassilon stood with Brax and Romana on either side, the price of their defiance evident by the hands coving their eyes like the Weeping Angels of old. 

Lightly, she tapped them on the shoulders.

“Come with me,” she whispered. 

There was no hesitation as they followed her off of the platform and into the broken room on Earth, no hesitation as they came to stand on either side of the Doctor where he stood battered, bruised, cut, and gaping in disbelief. The broken form of the Master was faring little better, though he was far angrier with Rassilon. 

The Doctor was also holding a gun. 

“Put it down,” Rose whispered soothingly, gently pulling it from suddenly-slack fingers and throwing it to the floor. She fixed Rassilon with a glare, the power of raw time shining in her eyes, and was gratified when he shrank back like the coward he was. The Doctor half collapsed, half engulfed, her frame as he wrapped her in a tight hug and buried his face into her hair to stifle his sobs. 

Rose whispered gently into his neck and rubbed his back, idly watching the Master challenge Rassilon in the Doctor’s stead 

“You look a bit different from the last time I saw you,” the new Doctor said softly. Brax and Romana had long since disappeared into the depths of the Doctor’s TARDIS to let the pair become reacquainted more privately, and thus they had the library all unto themselves. At the moment they were cuddling on the couch.

“Yeah...” Rose muttered, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him lightly on the lips. He had green eyes, floppy brown hair. A bit gangly rather than lanky this time around. But sweet, and oh so hurt and ever so broken. “Hi.”

“Hello,” he murmured back. “I missed you so much, Rose. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.” 

“Been less... for me.” She bit her lip. “I’ve been to Gallifrey, in the past.” He gasped as pain coursed through his mind, taking a few moments to realize it was hers. 

“When?” He bit out through clenched teeth.

“You need to remember,” Rose whispered, nuzzling close and raising her hands to his temples.

“Remember what?” The Doctor mumbled as he crushed her against him in a viselike grip, afraid that if he let go she would disappear again.

“Everything,” Rose breathed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah, regardless of what RTD said about the identity of the woman in this episode, I always personally headcanon it was either Romana (most, most likely) or Lady Flavia (far less likely but still plausible). Both make more sense than the actual suggested truth in my opinion, and it just works for the pretenses of this story.


	17. Past Echoes

_“You need to remember,” Rose whispered, nuzzling close and raising her hands to his temples._

_“Remember what?” The Doctor mumbled as he crushed her against him in a viselike grip, afraid that if he let go she would disappear again._

_“Everything,” Rose breathed._

~§§~

The moment her fingers connected, her mind to his, he felt an age-old marriage bond snap back into place with startling clarity. 

Pain. Intense, emotional. Physical. Searing heat. Nothingness. A soft golden light, the odd sensation of having one’s cells stitched together at the atomic level, and then an all-consuming fog of cognitive emptiness.

His vision cleared into harsh synthetic light and a spare, clinical room. He stood naked before a vast open space alone, tiny child’s body wracked with shivers from cold and nerves. The boy, only just biologically past the toddler phase, swept the room with wide and innocent hazel eyes through a screen of softly waving black bangs as he stepped out of the looming chamber and drew breath for the first time. There were two blurry silhouettes coming toward him now, solidifying into clearer people as the distance reduced and his eyes adjusted to the concept of sight, and he noted that they were a male and a female. Were these his parents? 

...Oh. They were saying something about an... anomaly. What was that? Was it something bad? 

The female didn’t look happy so the boy guessed it was bad. She left quickly and the male simply looked at him with a furrowed brow, confused and a tiny bit annoyed. The boy felt... he wasn’t sure what it was... but it was an icky, jittery feeling in the pit of his stomach. A strange, foreign word he didn’t know the meaning of floated into his thoughts. _Unease._

Soon, a man and woman were following after the first female with a small boy no older than ten or eleven in tow. Neither looked particularly pleased to be there, but the other boy looked hopeful and curious. The smaller boy, the one just loomed, shook his head slightly as a sort of ticklish buzz in the back of his brain ebbed and flowed as soon as the two children set eyes on one another. For his part, the partial-toddler didn’t yet understand what was going on. How could he? He was less than a half hour old. So, he saw the man and woman with the other boy and his hearts leapt as two words came to bear. _Mother. Father._

He smiled widely at them, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he clutched the blanket he’d been given more tightly around his shoulders as he waited for them to say hello. Waited instinctually for them to embrace him in a telepathic caress that existed between parent and child. 

They spoke in short, whispered harsh tones to one another before glancing down at the older boy and letting out a concurrent long-suffering sigh. The woman knelt down to get a better look at him, opening her mouth to say something, before she seemed to notice something that displeased her as she abruptly stood, turned on her heel, and walked back toward the door. The smaller boy tilted his head slightly in confusion, glancing down at his stomach and frowning. Did his mother not like his belly button? What was wrong with it? 

He glanced back up at the man who seemed to be regarding him more neutrally and, hopeful, he stretched his arms up in a silent plea to be held. The man stiffened. Maybe he just didn’t know what he was supposed to do. The boy figured he’d have to be slightly more insistent. 

“Ada?” He asked in a small, somewhat raspy voice as he tried to figure out how to use his new vocal cords. His father made a soft noise of disgust and swept out of the room after the woman. 

The boy lowered his arms to his sides, the hopeful smile fading to be replaced by hot tears tracking down his cheeks. They didn’t like him. Why didn’t they like him? 

“Hi,” an adolescent voice said softly. The boy swiped miserably at his nose and glanced up to see the older boy standing in front of him with a wide smile on his face. Without asking he knelt slightly and scooped the younger boy into his arms, humming happily to himself as he trotted after his parents. “I’m Irving Braxiatel, they said they were going to call you Theta Sigma, and I’m your big brother. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” 

A brief image of a boy his senior with messy copper hair and silver eyes - nothing at all like the deep brown locks and soft blue of the one currently carrying him - flashed across his mind’s eye and Theta sighed, relaxing into the embrace as a sense of safety came over him. He could trust Braxiatel, he somehow knew. Older brothers were supposed to watch out for their younger brothers. 

The House of Lungbarrow was old, dim, gloomy, and full of people who disliked him apparently on sight aside from his blood brother Brax. The moment they’d got home from the looms his aunts and uncles had tutted disapprovingly, his twenty-three cousins making fun of him for his belly button and general appearance. They called him ‘snail,’ ‘Proto-Gallifreyan,’ and at least a dozen other insults before Brax was able to escape to their (currently shared until arrangements were made) bedroom and he could explain a few majorly important things to his new baby brother. 

The first of which being that Lungbarrow wasn’t actually their blood house, and that they weren’t biologically related to anyone inside of it. Even their parents had adopted them. It was just the pair of them, on the entire planet, that were blood family. They had to stick together. Secondly, he told Theta that his given name, ‘Theta Sigma,’ was not his true name. His true name was woven into his timelines and should only ever be uttered to his eventual spouse, and even then it was only if he wanted to do so. They then spent the remainder of the evening before Theta collapsed practically comatose in the bed working on developing the familial telepathic bond they shared as siblings, and the only bright spot to the entire day for Theta was the happy buzz of his elder brother’s mind against his as he drifted off into a series of very strange dreams that felt more like memory than fanciful imagination. 

When he woke up, they were gone.

~*~§~*~

It was dusk when Theta was escorted to the Untempered Schism. Rough-hewn stone steps weathered into soft rounded edges over insurmountable time echoed dully underneath his feet, and the path was dimly lit by numerous torch basins lining the gently-sloping hillside. The Schism itself was a rip in the fabric of space and time, contained from expansion by an archaic-looking stone temporal field ring. It swirled and rippled with golden and blue color within the containing ring and the people of Gallifrey had adapted to both understand and comprehend it at the instinctual level. As such, initiated into the Time Lord Academy were brought before it at the age of eight. It hurt, but the reason it hurt was because it was opening their abilities wider and more quickly than they ever could have been had they remained Gallifreyan only. Of course, one of three things happened when you looked in. Either you ran in terror, stood frozen as the secrets of reality were unlocked in your head, or you went mad from the stress of it all. Most ran. Brax had. 

The first few years of his life had been... miserable, to say the least, and Brax leaving for the Academy after holiday during those first weeks had nearly been his undoing. With indifferent parents and openly spiteful cousins, life without Brax was intolerable. The House of Lungbarrow was dark, dismal, and unwelcoming of his presence. Denied even the simple attentiveness everyone else was given by the House’s Memory Tree, he was left to his own devices and often snuck out to a barn on the far fringes of the estates to sleep and escape the judgmental looks of his not-quite kin. 

So, despite the fear of approaching the Schism... of moving toward an object of untold power that made even his barely-there fledgling time senses ache in his mind... of worrying that he would go mad, as some were prone to do, as Koschei seemed to have done albeit succumbing to it at an unbelievably slow clip...

Anything he was going to was better than where he was coming from. 

Strong hands prodded him gently forward, and Theta realized he had paused on the steps to contemplate these thoughts. Swallowing, he continued closer and soon began to feel the unpleasant tug and disorientation the Schism affected upon his fledgling time senses. A brief set of images flashed before his eyes; he felt strangely as if he had been there before. There was a song beckoning him closer. 

Unbidden now, he walked dreamily toward the swirling tear in the fabric of reality and swayed slightly when he cruised to a stop, hazel eyes glassy as he gazed in. 

The music intensified. The universe was at his feet. Supernovas and nebulae churning with colorful gas as meteors whizzed through night skies leaving burning trails in their wake. He could see the birth of galaxies and the death of planets in the span of a few precious seconds, and he stood frozen before the majesty of creation. 

A fire began to simmer in his blood, itching to run. To run as far as he could and keep going. To crawl when he collapsed. The universe was calling to him in his mind amid the song, and suddenly his feet were carrying him as far and as fast as they would go. For the first time in his very short life he had purpose. 

He was into the lower levels of the city before he even realized he’d given in to his impulses, and was going yet deeper still. 

Down, down, down. 

To the Cloisters, where the Matrix was housed and the mist of the catacombs muffled the screams of the dead. 

Theta slowed as unease overtook his desire to get away from the Schism. All children on Gallifrey were told stories of the Cloister Wraiths, told to avoid them, but still some of the more curious of the lot went. They came back with tales of the Sliders - so named for the way they would glide noiselessly across the ground - and had haunted expressions. None had ever entered into the Cloisters because the Wraiths would kill you if you did so; the entrance was as far as most went. He’d never been particularly keen to see the Wraiths up close, but here he was. 

And, Theta realized with mounting horror, he had gone deep into the Cloisters themselves, well past the entrance and into the depths. On top of that, he was lost. Even if he somehow managed to find his way back he would be trapped by the Wraiths and most likely killed for trespassing. 

The Sliders were moving closer to him now. He could see them, in the fog and the mist. Dark cloaked things without faces, without form. Ghosts in impersonal shells. 

Theta couldn’t help it. He sank to the ground and started crying. It wasn’t as if there was much of anything else he could do, was there? He was going to die. They would kill him, and the worst part was that aside from Brax no one would actually care. 

Gradually, he became aware that the only sound echoing through the Cloisters was his sobs. The Wraiths were circling him, silent. None approached. It was as if they were calculating, pondering. Suddenly, they stopped. They tilted their faceless hooded heads toward the ceiling and began to speak. Multiple voices, impersonal and indifferent from one another, spoke in perfect synchronized tandem. 

_“Burn his feathers still he flies_

_Stab his hearts and there he lies_

_A Haęon’s life for your gain_

_Fire burns red; blood still stains_

_When all he is is reduced to ash_

_Feuds will still but teeth yet gnash_

_And at the height atop your zenith_

_Watch the dust; arose a Phoenix.”_

Theta was suddenly on the far outskirts of the city, shivering not with cold but with fear. The prophecy the Wraiths had spoken was burned into his mind and playing on a loop, and he kept muttering it under his breath over and over again. 

He was still muttering it when they found him, and kept at it until he passed out in sleep. 

~*~§~*~ 

Brax was having the worst day of his entire life. He had woken up that morning knowing that at some point during the day Theta would be taken to the Untempered Schism, and he had been pulled out of class at dusk to be told that Theta had stood frozen for a few precious, telling moments before running faster than anyone had ever seen before. That in and of itself was fine; it wasn’t the reaction the mad ones had so he hadn’t gone mad. 

But oh, where had he run off to? The chilling words ‘he’s gone into the Cloisters’ had caused his hearts to stutter and his respiratory bypass to fail. 

Then, the entire planet went still in silent terror as the Cloister Bells rang out for the first time in twelve millennia. They only ever did so when something catastrophic would befall them and yet they had fallen quiet mere minutes later. Ten minutes after that Theta had been found murmuring something over and over again under his breath, his gaze unfixed and unseeing of what was in front of him, a good two hours’ walk from the entrance to the Cloisters across town. No one knew how he got there or what had even happened, but he had been brought to the Lord President’s office to be questioned by the High Council. 

Since he was still in shock they had brought Brax along for the ordeal, and while they asked their questions Theta had been curled into a tight ball in his lap while Brax gently ruffled his hair. They’d managed to get nothing out of him aside from the repeated prophecy over and over again, something which seemed to worry them about as much as it excited them, and Brax stiffened when he caught the word ‘Other’ uttered more than once paired a disturbing amount of times with the word ‘reincarnation.’ 

So he hugged Theta tighter to him and couldn’t help but smile when he finally fell asleep, protectively refusing to let anyone else near him. Theta was _his_. _His_ blood kin. _His_ little brother. They couldn’t have him. So they wouldn’t. That didn’t mean he wasn’t scared though. Because, if what they were thinking was true... what did that mean for Theta? Heck, what did that mean for _him!?_

Theta woke up the next morning still cradled in Brax’s arms. After being escorted out of the Lord President’s chambers they had been allowed to return to the Academy, where Brax went straight to his room and snuggled into bed with his baby brother still clutched to his chest. He himself hadn’t gotten any sleep being too worried to do so, so when Theta began to stir Brax was there to smile and watch as he opened his eyes for the first time that morning. 

“Hi,” Theta yawned. “Where are we?”

“My chambers, in the Academy.” 

“Oh. They look... nice.” 

“How are you feeling?” Brax asked gently if uneasily. He was able to at least admit to himself that he was watching his little brother carefully to see if anything about him had changed. Theta’s brow furrowed at the question, his lip pouting ever so slightly before replying. 

“I have a headache and a big fear of crypts now but other than that I think I’m okay,” he replied honestly. His attention was diverted to the window and he climbed out of the bed to go and perch part-way on the sill, posture restless and curious. 

“Good,” Brax managed to choke out, his hearts sinking. Theta was exhibiting a... wanderlust that he hadn’t had before. Despite the fact that he had run, Brax suspected that those few seconds he had stood frozen he had been inspired. Inspired to do what, exactly, was still a question to be answered; whether it be to explore, to leave Gallifrey, to travel for the sake of traveling... one thing was certain. He had starlight in his eyes. 

~*~§~*~

Theta could admit to himself that he hadn’t been the same since his trip to the Untempered Schism and subsequent unexpected add-on of the Cloisters. Where once his studies had been of great interest he now found them boring and mundane. A part of his mind protested having to be taught it all again despite never having been taught it at all. History was especially torturous; it just felt... _wrong_. Everything about it felt wrong, like facts had been misinterpreted and then rearranged into the current set of established events. 

He skipped class whenever he could, which was more often than he thought he should have been able to get away with considering the strict rules required at the Academy and how harshly they were both monitored and enforced. Koschei often went with him, a partner in crime, though the other boy had been acting more and more... unlike himself as the years dragged on. 

There was an Earth turtle named Leonardo in Theta’s chambers that he had to hide in his robes every time a spot check occurred which had been given to him by a young girl on Earth, and he sometimes took Leo out with him when he went running into the tall red grass outside of the Academy’s walls. Most of the time, he just laid there and enjoyed the wind on his face with the dirt underneath his back. Other times he coaxed Koschei into games. 

When he was in class he sketched on the side of his notebooks, little doodles of things that made no sense but felt like forgotten memory, and he often got yelled at for daydreaming. He just...

He wanted to _get out. Explore._ There was a wanderlust beating in his soul now that made him itch to run and never look back, and too much time at the Academy was spent sitting still. 

~*~§~*~

“Now, who can tell me what was just said?” Borusa asked his class calmly. It was their first lesson into introductory Old High Gallifreyan, and the entire class was watching him with confusion evident on their young faces. Well, the entire class save for the boy staring boredly out the window. 

“Theta!” Borusa barked. The boy’s dark head with the hair just a tad bit too long whipped around to stare at him in startled attention, hazel eyes wide as he wondered what he’d missed. “Tell me what the translation of the text I just read was, if you please.”

“I...” Theta swallowed. Borusa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Never mind. Pay attention next time. Vansell.” The boy responded promptly with a self-satisfied smile on his face, stumbling through the vocabulary sheet he had before him as he translated the passage word for word. They moved on to speech, which was far more difficult because there were no guides in their primers for pronunciation, and it was soon evident that the entire class was struggling. That was to be expected. 

“All right, let’s try something new,” Borusa suggested. “I’m going to place a sentence on the board and I want you to translate it into Old High Gallifreyan.” He wrote a short excerpt from the _Triumphs of Rassilon_ out as it was a familiar piece of literature for them. Hands went up as students attempted with varying degrees of disastrous results to properly translate it. 

Theta’s hand went up; he was finally showing interest in something. Borusa nodded at him and he walked to the front of the class, just as the rest of them had done, to take his turn. His classmates snickered, but the room went quiet when he opened his mouth. 

Borusa could only stare in mounting astonishment as perfectly correct, perfectly fluent, Old High Gallifreyan issued from the child’s lips. When he was finished he turned and grabbed up the stencil, writing out the sentence in Old High Gallifreyan next to the one written in Modern Gallifreyan on the board. He used Old High Gallifreyan characters, which Borusa hadn’t even attempted to introduce to the class yet, with flawless precision. He then looked straight at his professor and said, simply, 

“Vansell got the translation wrong earlier. He used an incorrect tense. There are seven tenses which could be applied to the passage, and he used the wrong one. Instead of the work being in future present it was in present past. It changes the meaning of the excerpt completely.” Theta gave a short bow of respect to his instructor and walked back toward his seat.

“And... Do you know what work that passage is excerpted from?” Borusa asked. Theta paused on one of the steps, all eyes on him, as he nodded. 

_“Paresai and Other Indicitavur of the Old Ways,”_ he said in a quiet but calm tone, sliding into his seat and returning to staring forlornly out the window. 

Borusa swallowed before continuing on with the lesson, adding in that Theta was entirely correct when Vansell attempted to say that he was wrong. Most of his mind was wrapped up in what had just happened. 

There had been something... Ancient that had flashed in Theta’s eyes when he’d recited Old High Gallifreyan, almost as if he had been born and raised to adulthood speaking it. Indeed, he sounded more at ease and confident in the dead language than he did in Modern Gallifreyan. 

Borusa knew, of course, the rumors surrounding the boy in the halls of the political world. Whispers that the Other had returned. He was an ambitious man, patient and cunning. He could wait, and grooming a potential reincarnated persona of a Founder to adulthood was a surefire way to gain favor even if it was later proven that Theta had nothing to do with the Other in the slightest. If he were a betting man though, he would say that there was a connection of some sort. 

The odd circumstances surrounding Theta’s looming, his experience at the Schism and the subsequent foray into the Cloisters whereon he was allowed to leave alive and had been repeatedly muttering an ancient Pythia prophecy about the Other immediately after coupled with his complete understanding and comprehension of Old High Gallifreyan for seemingly no explainable reason sounded like a good stack of evidence to support his views. He knew others wouldn’t share them, but that was all the better. He had aspirations to become Lord President one day, hopefully by then having unlocked Rassilon’s secret to immortality that he might reign for eternity, and somehow that boy would help him achieve those goals. 

“You’re a freak, Theta!” Vansell shouted. They were in the courtyard after class; it was the end of the day and they were free to retire to their chambers for the night. 

“Is not!” Koschei protested, springing immediately to his defense. 

“You _would_ say that, wouldn’t you?” Ushas remarked drily, flicking a piece of soft blonde hair exasperatedly over her shoulder as she did so. Drax snickered but did nothing, simply enjoying the show, as his fellow classmates devolved into a petty squabble. 

It ended abruptly when Borusa laid a hand on Theta’s shoulder and guided him out of the group. 

“I noticed that you’re having trouble with your studies,” he began as segue. “Allow me to be your mentor while you’re here...”

~*~§~*~

Koschei was overjoyed to be learning how to swordfight and Vansell was almost as equally enthusiastic. Theta suspected this was because he was looking forward to swinging something sharp at his head but had no evidence to support that claim. The premise was learning for ceremonial purposes and to get a look into the past culture of their planet. While this was a noble venture, Theta pretty much hated it. For the most part, he was having trouble. The sword he was using had an odd balance and it didn’t feel at one with his arm. It was... wrong. His sword was wrong. Where he expected it to be almost sentiently intuitive it was dead. Where there should have been energy there was nothing. 

They were learning with an older class, Brax’s to be precise, and there was a boy in that year named Narvin that seemed to take great pleasure in methodically eliminating all of his opponents. He was undefeated in his year, but some of the children from Theta’s saw fit to challenge him anyway. 

That was how Theta ended up standing off against him without particularly wanting to; Koschei had issued a challenge in his stead and nobody was letting him back down from it. 

Narvin drew first blood. It was a tiny flick of the tip of the blade, just at the upper arm, not designed to be particularly serious but to let him know he meant business. Still, the pain exploded and traveled down to every single nerve ending in his body. Theta dropped down onto one knee, breath rasping as images of fire and war flickered haphazardly through his mind’s eye. Instinctively, Theta swiped at Narvin’s legs. The older boy let out a huff of surprise as the flat side smacked into his shins and down he went. Forgotten muscle memory flooded Theta’s body as he leapt to his feet, nimbly pivoting on his heels and dodging blows too strong to effectively block for his size and build. Swordplay was an art form and he was a dancer, protecting his center of balance in sure-footed elegant movements whilst making quick feints and catching Narvin in all of his exposed areas. 

He came back to himself when his blade was digging into Narvin’s neck, drawing blood. 

Abruptly, he dropped the weapon and bolted, flinging a stream of guilty apologies over his shoulder as he ran. The sound of feet slapping the pavement behind him only encouraged Theta to go faster, and before long the sound had faded into the general buzz of background noise that permeated the Academy as students went about their lessons.

Brax finally caught up with Theta about ten minutes later. He was sitting in the gardens underneath a canopy of silver leaves idly picking at the rich red grass spread around him. Despite being shorter and smaller than the other children in his year he was wiry, his scrawny body built for speed and endurance over brute strength, and the way he had outrun his longer-legged brother with ease showed that it helped. 

He didn’t look up as Brax sat cross-legged beside him, and they sat in silence for a few moments. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly. “I don’t... I didn’t mean... it just happened,” he explained helplessly, his shoulders tensing as he recalled what had gone on. Brax regarded him cautiously with a small frown. 

He wasn’t sure what to do anymore. For the longest time he’d ignored the obvious; ignored all the signs that pointed to what he knew deep down. Theta had changed when he’d looked into the Schism those thirty years ago. While he was largely the same physiologically - Gallifreyan aging slowed dramatically once they hit the beginnings of adolescence and Theta’s voice was only just now beginning to go through the change - his mind was far afield from the boy who had gone for Initiation. Hard as it was, Brax was forced to admit that it had been obvious the morning after he’d gotten out of the Cloisters alive. 

There were these moments where Brax would catch a glimpse of someone else shining through. This person largely had the same personality as Theta did, the same disposition, but there was an experience there that went far beyond what Theta’s less than 100 years clearly lacked. 

“Narvin shouldn’t go after the younger groups anyway,” Brax replied with forced casualness. “His own fault for finding someone who bested him.”

“I didn’t... feel like me,” Theta muttered. “I don’t actually know what happened. One minute I was bleeding, and the next... Narvin has my sword at his throat. Everything in between was one big blur.” 

“Red haze?” Brax suggested despite not actually believing it. Theta shook his head. 

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” the younger boy whispered, turning wide eyes toward his older brother. “I just... know things. Things I shouldn’t but do. Do you... do you get that, sometimes?” He asked, a dash of hope entering into his eyes. Brax didn’t have the hearts to tell him he didn’t.

“Yeah, it’s instinct,” he deflected quickly as he draped an arm across Theta’s shoulders. “The parent TNA we were loomed from was old. Like, ‘unaltered before the existence of the looms themselves old’ that somehow got stuck in circulation. We’ve got a whole bunch of instincts and predispositions that most everyone else on the planet doesn’t anymore because it’s been bred out.” Even as he said it he shook off the hazy images of five small girls chasing after himself and a messy, sienna-haired boy with golden eyes about Theta’s age as a woman with copper locks looking fondly if exasperatedly on.

“Great,” Theta snorted in exasperation. “That _would_ be the end to today, that explanation.” 

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” Brax sighed melodramatically. Theta tensed slightly.

“Maybe for you it’s not,” he said so quietly the words were barely heard.

Brax swallowed, uncertain of what to say. Each day, every day, he felt like he lost a little more of his little brother to whatever this calling was that was drawing him slowly, indiscriminately away. 

He had no idea how to fix it.

~*~§~*~

The streets were lined with festive, colorful hangings. It was one of the only holidays that existed, Otherstide, and was supposedly the anniversary of the Other’s birth. Or possibly his death. No one was quite certain on that point anymore. 

But it had persisted; bright and full and a general celebration of life. Because of the legends surrounding the Other it was generally a time of rebirth, and the festivities were so intense that the holiday began a week prior to the actual day and ended a week after. Time Lords close to Regeneration would often choose to forcibly regenerate themselves during this time to recover and keep in tune with the theme about renewal, and Gallifreyans saw it as a time for opportunities. Some applied to the Academy and got in, others proposed marriage, and some even decided to start families. 

All of it set Brax’s teeth on edge. Theta had been born on Otherstide - yet another coincidence that scared him to his core as they kept mounting up over the years - and today was his two hundredth birthday. He was legally an adult now in the eyes of Time Lord society, nearing his final exams in the Academy, and he was expected to choose a title for himself within the next year or keep his given name of Theta Sigma. 

So, Brax had decided that he was going to tell Theta today what he knew. He’d done extensive research into the limited data on their bloodline, their House, and the Other and was fairly certain that there was a fifty-fifty shot as to whether or not they were even remotely related to the Other in the slightest. It all depended on solidifying a particular genealogy and the evidence to support it was sketchy at best, so for the first time in a long time on the matter Brax was hopeful. 

Pouring over text after text had unearthed some other interesting facts as well. He’d initially been worried that Theta Sigma might have been a subconscious prod on his adoptive parents’ minds to name his little brother what he had been named in his past life, but stumbling almost accidentally upon a torn excerpt in one of the numerous copies of Omega’s journals he had found that the Other’s true name was a variation of an Old High Gallifreyan word that meant ‘healer.’ There were five or six names in the old tongue pertaining to that meaning, but still. Theta Sigma wasn’t anywhere close to that. 

When he went to Theta’s chambers he found that they were empty, and after inquiring to his whereabouts he got an answer out of Koschei. Theta had gone before the record-keepers of Gallifrey to announce his title. Brax frowned at that, asking why he hadn’t been told, at which point Koschei’s eyes had gone wide with guilt as he sheepishly handed over a letter that Brax was supposed to have been given early that morning. Huffing in annoyance, Brax ran to the offices praying to deities his planet no longer believed in that he wasn’t too late to be there for it.

Theta was pacing in the entry when he got there, still as scrawny as ever and reaching the disappointing height of 5’8” (1.727m) with flyaway black hair that was now shaggily reaching the nape of his neck. He easily stood out among the busy populace in his obnoxiously-colored orange Prydonian Academy robes - which were, as ever, in a state of perpetual disarray - bouncing up and down impatiently on his feet with his hands clasped behind his back. The young aristocratic features of his face relaxed from nervous energy into elation when bright hazel eyes more blue-gold than green-brown fixated on Brax puffing on the doorstep, and practically skipping Theta rushed over to drag him into the entry proper. 

“I wasn’t sure you were going to come,” the young Time Lord admitted a tad sheepishly. His voice had developed into an odd medium-depth blend of rasping vowels and smooth if hard consonants, at once cultured yet unassuming, and it perfectly depicted the persona of the man he had grown to become throughout his boyhood. “You’ve been distant lately what with your aspirations to get into office, and I just... I wondered if you’d have the time.”

“If there’s one thing Time Lords seem to never have enough of it’s time,” Brax lamented melodramatically, earning a laugh from Theta and easing his nerves just as Brax had intended the remark to. “As for why I’m late, your friend Koschei forgot to deliver your letter.”

“Knew I should have given it to Ushas,” Theta muttered before shaking himself slightly and refocusing on their reason for being at the clerk’s office. “You’re probably wondering why we’re doing this today.”

“As a matter of fact. Most people take the entire year to figure out what they want to be called. After all, a title is forever on this planet. No second chances for a name change.”

“I settled on my title years ago,” Theta admitted unconcernedly. “Gone over it again and again to make sure it was what I wanted, and each time my conviction has only grown.” His voice was as steady and confident as his suddenly-serious gaze. “I’m ready, Brax.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep ‘Theta Sigma’?” Brax wondered aloud as they moved into a queue. Theta rolled his eyes.

“Just because you decided your name was already perfect, _Irving Braxiatel_ , does not mean I feel the same way,” he chided teasingly. 

“...Can I... can I still call you ‘Theta,’ though? Would that be okay?” Brax was rewarded with a soft chuckle at his uncertain question.

“‘Course you can, Brax.”

“Oh. Well, that’s alright then.” 

They both snickered and moved with the line as it slowly dwindled toward their turn. 

“What were you planning on making your title?” Brax asked when there was only one person in front of them. 

“The Doctor,” Theta said proudly with a slight tilt of his head. Brax felt his blood run cold even as he smiled at his younger brother. _Healer_. _Six names in Old High Gallifreyan with that as the meaning. And he chose a modern title that meant the same thing._

“May I ask why?” Brax somehow managed to choke out without his voice cracking. 

“It just felt... right,” Theta replied somewhat distantly with a shrug before his attention was abruptly diverted to the registrar behind the counter as he began the process of his legal name change. Brax’s shoulders slumped as he mentally shoved all of the things he’d been about to tell his younger brother to the back of his mind. 

~*~§~*~

He stood before the lawyer and signed the contract submitting his TNA to the looms, his wife by law but not by courtship or even by hearts doing the same by his side, and one thing kept repeating itself over and over again in his mind.

_Wrong. Arione. Wrong._

His son was beautiful but biologically aged to be four years old. He was logical, unimaginative, and everything his mother was and his father wasn’t. Shortly after their son’s birth he dreamt about a shining goddess of Time, her gaze sad but understanding, and he felt as if he had betrayed someone who hung the stars for him.

The Doctor withdrew his TNA consent from the Looms about a month after. 

He published a controversial paper that effectively destroyed his budding if unwanted political career. His wife who he never really knew filed for a divorce he was only too happy to authenticate. His hearts broke when the son who never bonded with him (telepathically or otherwise) despite his best efforts chose to go with his mother. He lost custody and was told to stay away. 

_Wrong. Arione. Caldeon. Wrong._

~*~§~*~

“Doctor, I assume you are aware of the reason for this hearing today?” The Castellan asked in precise clipped tones. 

The Doctor was standing before the High Council in the session chambers - the informal one, not the official one, he noticed - and really had no idea why he was there. Brax, a newly-elected member and thus lowest on the proverbial totem pole, refused to meet his gaze. His last ally had abandoned him. So, he did what he had become accustomed to doing in other such situations.

He lifted his chin slightly upward so that he was staring down his nose at them and replied in short, professional kind. 

“I received a summons that did not detail the purpose, only that I was not allowed to refuse,” he explained honestly. “So I came, and I truly hope you will provide me with the reason for doing so.” There was a general chatter underbuzz that swept across the ornate table for a few moments before the members composed themselves. This time, it was not the Castellan who spoke but the Lord President himself. 

“You are here because there is heavy evidence to suggest that you are the reincarnation of the Other,” he said in a soft yet booming voice. “What do you say to this?” The Doctor’s eyes had grown wide with shock at the admission and his reply was a stuttered mess of conflicting inflections. 

“I- that- it’s preposterous!” He shouted, all pretense at composure gone.

“So you deny the accuracy of this assumption then?” Borusa questioned as the Lord President remained silent at the outburst. He had left the Academy ages ago to pursue a political career and had quickly lost patience for dodging around an issue.

“Of course I do! I think I would remember if I were a Founder of Time Lord society in a past life, don’t you?”

“And do you?”

“What sort of question is _that!?_ Of course not! I demand to see both the evidence collected and the one who assembled it!”

“Ah, Theta...” Brax began before trailing off helplessly, his expression apologetic. The Doctor stilled in a classic display of threat assessment; it was primal, instinctual, and dangerous. Each movement was tinged with a feline alien grace and beauty. Each action calculated carefully before being made. It had also been bred out of the other loomed Time Lords ages ago. His unaltered parent TNA was making itself known. 

“If you have something you want to tell me Brax, by all means tell me now for the very first time in front of the High Council rather than act like my brother and tell me in private,” he said quietly. There was no menace there, no judgement. It was eerily devoid of emotion and had a steady cadence that implied an authority and experience he didn’t possess. 

“Could-” Brax had to swallow before continuing. “Could we reconvene at a later time, Lord President?” He asked in a hoarse voice. After a few moments of deliberation his request was granted. “Thank you.” 

As soon as they were both in Brax’s office the Doctor rounded on him, eyes suddenly dark and molten and dangerous in a way that Brax had never seen before and had no desire to ever see again. 

"What did you _do_ , Irving?" He hissed. And Brax flinched. Theta only called him 'Irving' when he wanted to get a point across. 

"I was collecting evidence _against_ the assumption," he defended weakly. "I knew it was only a matter of time before it came up-"

"How long have you known?" He had gone still again, cold and sharp edges that hid a terrifying anger underneath. 

"...The morning after you... after the Untempered Schism, was when my suspicions..." Brax sighed, slumping down into his chair. He was beginning to feel all three hundred and thirty years of his existence now; original bodies generally only lasted to five hundred if one was lucky. The infusion of Artron radiation from Regeneration was enough to keep the bodies after going for a thousand to two thousand years apiece depending on how quickly one spent their reserves, but there wasn't enough from simply existing near the Schism to let the first body last all that long. Even Theta had the faintest glimmerings of silver beginning to shine at his temples, and after a few moments the younger Time Lord sighed and sat heavily on the edge of the desk. 

"You knew, all that time, and never told me?" Theta whispered brokenly. He wasn't angry anymore. He just looked tired. Brax swallowed.

"Was going to tell you so many times..." he broke off, drew a shaky breath, and began again. "I could never figure out how. I didn't want you to get hurt, especially if it wasn't true, and I just- I wanted to keep you safe." 

"Yeah, well I just wanted a brother. But I guess it's my lot in life to have everyone stab me in the back eventually. First Koschei, now you." the Doctor stood and began walking to the door. "I have to go back in front of them some time, might as well be now. Feel free to not attend."

"Theta."

"I chose the title of 'Doctor,' Irving. I'd appreciate it if you respected that." With those words hanging in the air the Doctor left, leaving him alone. Brax sighed and let his head drop into the surface of his desk.

~*~§~*~

Her name was Arkytior. Dark-haired and olive-eyed, barely biologically older than three, and she had been found standing on his doorstep shivering in a downpour with a note from his son saying that his pre-loom genes had skipped a generation. That her mother and father didn’t want her because she was too much of an unpredicticality. She had been nameless until he had given her a name, the Gallifreyan derivative for the Rose flower, and she’d stared up at him at that first meeting with her head cocked slightly to the side before raising her arms in a request to be held and saying a single, simple word.

“Adofen.” _Grandfather._

She was beautiful, and entirely too sensitive to be traumatized by the Untempered Schism. The day before her eighth birthday he packed all of their things into a dimensionally transcendental briefcase, turned in his renter’s notice of their flat in Arcadia, and had her hold his hand as he walked toward the museum that housed the ships. 

He was aiming for one of the newest models on display - still making it quite old but better than a Type 1 by all stretches of the imagination - and instead paused in the entrance with Arkytior murmuring something unintelligible about the dark into the fabric of his coat as a presence called to him. 

The Doctor walked, slowly as he tried to locate the source, down a long row of identical-looking metal cylinders before stopping in front of one in particular. 

A Type 40, Mark... III. Not the most recent additions by a long stretch - those were the Type 97 Mark IV models since the nurseries were producing Type 130s - yet still functional and well-equipped for extremely extended jaunts through the universe. Not his first choice, mind. 

But she was calling to him, telepathically, and when he pushed gently on the door he found that she was quite unlocked with a set of keys sitting on the console in the center. The gloomy, dusty interior immediately brightened at his presence to soft white light and illumined a clinical-feeling room. White roundels were set into the curved walls, the console was hexagonal in shape, smooth chrome with numerous switches, dials, and levers all over it, and the time rotor in its center was short and vaguely concaved on the otherwise flat top with rods inside of it. A smooth grey floor vibrated slightly underneath their feet, and the door that led off into other parts unknown opened of its own accord. 

A sudden, startling prod exploded in the Doctor’s mind as the ship bonded with him and he felt a wave of excitement, welcome, and _home_ cascade into every nook and crevice in his telepathic landscape while she familiarized herself with her new Pilot. 

Primary pilot, that is; there were supposed to be six. He hadn’t thought that far ahead when he’d come up with this plan. 

As soon as the thought occurred to him he felt reassurance and the mental equivalent of someone blowing a raspberry. So, those were _Her_ thoughts on the matter then. Six pilots? Rubbish. One was just fine. 

Arkytior was tugging on his pants leg now as he set the briefcase down.

“What is it, my child?” He asked gently, bending on protesting knees to be at eye level with her. 

“It’s bigger on the inside, Adofen,” she murmured with wide eyes. The Doctor smiled, ruffling her long brown hair. 

“Of course it is, Ainfa.” _Grandchild._ “This is a Type 40 Time Capsule. A Time Ship that exists in a different dimension. The exterior door is merely a portal to it, the casing merely a protective shell to house the ship’s living matrix. Relative Dimensions, capable of traveling throughout both Time and Space wherever the occupants so wish.”

“So, Time and Relative Dimension In Space?” Arkytior summarized with a tiny frown. “That’s a mouthful. Couldn’t we just call it a... a TARDIS?”

The ship mentally chuckled as he opened his mouth to respond, and he felt... it felt... _right_. 

“Yes, I do believe we shall. Come on now, dear child. Take the briefcase and begin unpacking while I pilot us away from this place. Once we’re safely in the Time Vortex I’ll come back to help you.” Arkytior smiled at him, hefting up the case with some difficulty, before she awkwardly skipped deeper into the ship. 

Neither noticed the petite brunette leaning against a column smiling at them with a very swishy high ponytail cascading down to her shoulders as the door closed. 

A smart man would have conceded that it was difficult enough to man the controls with six people much less on one’s own. A smart man would have conceded that failing one’s driver’s test nine times in a row did not make one a good candidate for attempting it. But, after failing his first exam and only scraping by the second time with a 52% and (case in point) failing the aforementioned nine driver’s tests, the Doctor could conclude that he was not a particularly smart man. He was, as evidence indicated however, an exceptionally stubborn one who practically had the saying ‘if at first you don’t succeed try and try again' tattooed into his retinas. 

Takeoff was bumpy, but the TARDIS was showing him how to fly her solo. She was incredibly helpful, and the Doctor concluded by the time they entered into the Time Vortex and then materialized on a barren moon far from Gallifrey that she was the best teacher he had ever had. 

As he left the console room to go and find Arkytior, who would later become Susan, Navdi let out a fond if exasperated mental sigh. Her Thief. The man who had raised her and the man who had stolen her (twice, even if Arione had had something to do with it the first time). She missed the connection they had had. Built on trust, shared experience, and the care of a loving House that they had both been raised in. Most of all, she missed her Wolf Flower. Her Sister. Her Thief did too, even if he didn’t realize it yet. 

~*~§~*~

A flash of bottle blonde here and he saw her there. Susan begged him for a pair of trainers and he saw the knee-high lace-ups she had worn. 

He didn’t even know her name. He'd remembered the little human girl from his youth and saw her in this young woman; for some reason the rose flower flashed across his memory. He ached to ask her what had come to pass as she'd grown up but he hadn't seen her since that moment. The moment she’d run.

Ian and Barbara showed up one day and then he was too busy to fully lose himself in his daydreams, but the pair were soulmates and the Doctor couldn’t help but feel envious of their spending time together because _she_ wasn’t there. He’d just come to terms with this unwelcome reminder of his solitude when Susan met hers on a Dalek-decimated future Earth. 

Susan had been so torn. David was a decent man; funny, resourceful, and lighthearted despite what had happened to the world around him. It was obvious she wanted to stay with him, to have a life with him. She’d always wanted to settle down somewhere unlike her grandfather, who got restless listening to the clock tick the seconds of life by while he was in the room. 

In the end, he made the decision for her. And while it was heartsbreaking, he knew that she would be well-looked after and happy. 

He stopped by a few linear years later according to her timeline, after Steven had joined and after Vicki had left, and found that he had a great grandchild (and another on the way). 

While he was holding the baby and trying not to dwell too much on the beautiful sight of Susan’s slightly swollen abdomen - David had taken Steven for a quick tour of the current problems they were facing when it came to rebuilding - she made an offhanded comment about the ease with which he held the sleeping child. 

Unthinkingly, he commented on the fact that he’d held nieces and nephews like this as well as his son before realizing what he’d said. Susan, who well knew that he’d been estranged from Lungbarrow long before he’d been disowned from it and that the looms didn’t produce any offspring under the biological age of two, arched an eyebrow. 

“Grandfather?”

“Ramblings of an old man who’s forgotten more than he remembers,” the Doctor muttered even as he searched his brain for the specific set of recollections that were fueling his muscle memory and found nothing, which was... disconcerting. Because, all jokes aside, he was still quite young by his species’ standards and had perfect memory recall. Not even a set of suppressed memories filled with forbidden future knowledge yet. 

There was a moment of silence before Susan let the matter drop, sensing that it had taken him to an uncomfortable place in his own mind. She did _not,_ however, forget the slightly glassy look of... something _Other_ that had come into his eyes when he’d spoken offhandedly. For the first time since showing up on his doorstep, she wondered if the rumors held a grain of truth to them. 

~*~§~*~

First regeneration. First time in a new body. He was strangely comfortable with seeing a different face in the mirror for some reason. 

This new body of his had its own quirks just as his past one had, but his fingers itched to do something. 

He was drawn to the recorder. He’d wanted a flute, truth be told; a wooden flute made of bark from the silver cadonwood trees, but he hadn’t been able to find one on the TARDIS and there was no way he was risking capture on Gallifrey after avoiding them for the past few decades for the sake of an instrument. He could admit to himself that he wasn't stellar at the Recorder, but he'd picked up a flute once and it felt natural in his grasp. Jamie had begrudgingly agreed that it sounded quite good.

The Time Lords had trapped them in a time bubble, trying to make sure they couldn’t escape via the TARDIS. The War Games were over, and Jamie and Zoe were only just now beginning to understand why he had been so frightened by the prospect of calling for help from his own people. 

You weren’t supposed to be able to break through time bubbles. Once they slowed you down you were stuck. 

They were so close. The lock was just out of reach. 

Something powerful stirred in the pit of his stomach and the Doctor let out a shuddering breath as he broke free of the field to open the TARDIS and usher his companions, who had been freed at the same time he had, into the ship. He tried to dwell on that feeling, but try as he might to pinpoint the instincts that had summoned that power, his own mind seemed to be hiding it from him and he forgot about it almost immediately after.

Later, when Brax would review the footage of what had happened with the time bubble, he would cite corruption (albeit of his own making) preventing viewing and propose a theory that the slight power surge that had obliterated the field had also damaged the recording. No one but him needed to see the faint flash of gold in Theta’s eyes. 

~*~§~*~

Omega. Alive. That was... interesting, to say the least. Even odder was the fact that the Doctor felt as if he knew him. Or, perhaps odder still, the way Omega seemed to feel the same way. 

Talk of revenge. Talk of anti-matter and Time Lords and megalomania. 

Still they gravitated toward one another, the conversation easy and set in the ghost of an established pattern that tugged at wisps of memory in the Doctor’s mind. 

When his previous two forms showed up the effect was more obvious. Omega even went so far as to inquire if any more of his past incarnations would show up, something like _hope_ in his madness-tinged speech, which had been brutally dashed when the three Doctors had had to explain to him that no one else was coming because there was, in point of fact, no one else in the lineup to come.

Things had gone downhill quite quickly after that. 

Omega had a rather bad habit of slipping into Old High Gallifreyan when he was speaking, as if it were more natural for him than Modern Gallifreyan. The Doctor supposed it was considering the time period he had belonged to. Strangely enough, the Doctor had always felt it was easier as well and it was a conscious effort that made him slip back into Modern Gallifreyan so that he could converse with Gallifrey. In the end they’d had to trick Omega into staying behind while the three of them (one of them? Technically there was only one and yet there were three?) made their escape. 

The Doctor sent his two former selves off and then ordered Jo out for a well-deserved rest with Doctor Tyler and Benton close on her heels. The Brigadier stayed behind. He’d known the man long enough to catch on to the emotional shifts, and something was bothering his Scientific Adviser. But there were more pressing matters.

“Doctor?” Alistair called softly. The Time Lord in question glanced up from a rather complex-looking project. 

“Yes?”

“There was a brief moment where I thought I heard a... a riddle, or an omen, as I was wandering the halls,” he said uncertainly. The Doctor’s eyes lit up with a wary interest. 

“Oh?”

“Yes. Something about a Phoenix. I can’t quite remember the rest...” 

It was enough. The Doctor’s face paled to ash before he schooled his features. 

“Oh, that. Nothing to worry about, Brigadier. Just a little bedtime poetry from my home planet.”

“If you say so,” the man muttered dubiously without sounding particularly convinced even though he let it drop. 

~*~§~*~

The Sisterhood of Karn acted strangely around him, and he in turn felt an odd sort of dual kinship/hostility that had no real reason for it. Morbius was another oddity. In their battle of mental wills he had mentioned something about having only five incarnations to work through as opposed to the Doctor having to go through the full thirteen. The problem was, the Doctor was only on his fourth. Oh there were days when it felt longer than that, but still...

Most curious.

“To win is to lose, and to lose is to win,” the Third Doctor read for their companions’ benefit. Even Romana, Time Lady that she was, had needed the translation from Old High Gallifreyan. 

"Anyone else find that incredibly familiar for some reason?" The Fourth Doctor asked. He and his earlier selves exchanged a confused glance. 

"Not to me," Romana murmured, her brow furrowed as she leaned forward and brushed a lock of loose blonde hair behind her ear to study the stone pedestal the inscription was engraved upon. 

"I don't know why but I feel that it somehow applies to marriage?" the Second Doctor suggested, looking just as confused as everyone else even as he said it. There was a short collective sigh. 

"I wonder where that cricketer fellow got off to," the First Doctor muttered. 

~*~§~*~ 

Rassilon’s Tomb. Bit pretentious, he was sure all four of his past selves had thought when scampering about the place earlier. Rassilon's secret _lair,_ however, was proving to be quite interesting indeed. The intriguing secret door opened by the tune of the harp had been a clever puzzle despite the fact that the Fifth Doctor felt strangely self-aware of Rassilon's woeful lack of musical prowess. Oddly, a brief image of him scowling whilst Omega picked lazily at a lyre floated into his mind and was gone like morning vapors in the afternoon sun. The interior of the lair was even more mysterious. Time Scoops, a pentagonal grid of the Death Zone that had models of the Tower as well as his incarnations and companions in the interface, and the General Villain Dim Mood Lighting And Dark Color Scheme Aesthetic to give it flair. Oh, and of course the mysterious figure in black robes with the strange-looking crown upon their head that just so happened to be Borusa. 

They talked of Borusa's ambitions, of his service to the political happenstances of Gallifrey. And in the middle of all that Borusa made it clear that he wished to be Lord President for as long as was possible. The Doctor, of course, assumed this meant his remaining Regenerations. Borusa had other plans.

"You underestimate my ambition, Doctor," he said primly as they slowly, almost casually, circled one another in the small open space of the hidden room. "I shall be President eternal, and rule forever!"

"Immortality," The Doctor breathed, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. "But that's impossible, even for a Time Lord!" He protested.

"And you would know all about that, wouldn't you?" Borusa retorted snidely with a gleam of something... unpleasantly indiscernible in his eyes. "Or perhaps you don't. Perhaps that's the point."

"What are you talking about?" The Doctor asked quietly. His old mentor barked out a short laugh in response.

"What indeed. And now we come to it, do we not? The culmination of my long years of patience. fitting, I think, that you should be here to witness it. I've worked from the shadows for a long, long time. That was made possible through my beliefs, the status my being your tutor afforded me. And barely the rash, young age of 700 later you directly handed me access to the Presidency yourself. I watched, and I waited. And now I can achieve the fulfillment of all my desires. Rassilon achieved immortality, Doctor. It was the long fruition of seeking methods through science that you denied him the easy access of through simple nature. I wonder if you can sense the irony of making my ascendancy possible."

"I think that coronet you're wearing on your head is a tad too tight Borusa," the Doctor quipped blithely to mask his confusion. "Rassilon lived and died eons before I was even loomed."

"How strange it must be to be given a second life and never remember who you truly were," Borusa murmured almost pityingly. The Doctor felt as if his blood had turned to ice in his veins.

"You think I'm Him," he whispered, horrified. "Oh, you really have lost it haven't you?" The Lord President's calm demeanor turned suddenly thunderous.

"Do you know one of the benefits of the Coronet of Rassilon, Doctor?" He asked, fingers coming up to rest lightly at his own temples. The Doctor winced in pain as he felt something decidedly malevolent brushing against his telepathic shields. "I'll tell you. Complete domination of another being's willpower." The gentle tapping turned into an excruciating battering, and the Doctor dropped to his knees as he cried out in agony and his shields collapsed. He dimly heard Borusa muttering to himself whilst writhing on the floor. 

"Interesting. Most don't feel the Coronet affecting them until it is too late. You appear to be something different." Borusa knelt next to him and smirked as he grasped him roughly on the chin and tilted his head upward. "But then again, we already knew that didn't we?" He chuckled softly as the Doctor let out another scream.

Blissfully, the pain faded as a soft golden light filtered into his mind. There was the faint sound of ethereal music along with a soft voice familiar only from dreams within dreams calmly telling him to hold on and trust their instincts, and the Doctor retreated into that safe corner of his consciousness as the white heat of raw Time shimmered along the lines of his broken shielding. Borusa hissed, withdrawing, and the Doctor let out a soft sigh of relief before he collapsed into unconsciousness.

When he was gently shaken awake by Lady Flavia some time later, the Chancellor's Guard hovering concernedly nearby, he couldn't rightly remember what exactly had happened after Borusa had attacked him.

~*~§~*~

Hedin didn't seem to understand what it was exactly that Omega wanted. Yet, in the brief contact the Doctor had had with him when their consciousnesses had touched, he knew. Omega wanted desperately to be released from the prison of his antimatter universe. his way of doing that was to graft his own mind into the Doctor's body, and naturally the Doctor wasn't too keen to let that happen. 

Their conversation as they met a second time went much as the first encounter had; they conversed solely in Old High Gallifreyan and when the Doctor had chased him through the Matrix he made several comments alluding to being the master of his own creation. 

After the Doctor had shot him with the destabilizing energy field he was fading away. Instinct told him to stay as far back as possible, his senses chafing against the wrongness of antimatter present in the material world, and yet...

...And yet, some forgotten memory tugged insistently at his thoughts. Sighing softly, the Doctor handed his contraption to Nyssa and approached. Hesitating briefly, he crouched and raised his fingers to Omega's temple. The once-great founder nodded sharply through the pain of his death throes and they connected.

«Why do you keep trying to kill me?» The Doctor asked.

«I don't... I just... I didn't used to be this way,» Omega replied. His entire body shimmered, his opacity - and thus solidity - fading in and out as the universe sought to erase him. «Still, it is good to die in the presence of a friend.» 

«You can let go now,» the Doctor said soothingly. He didn't have the hearts to tell the man that he wasn't who everyone seemed to think he was.

«I regret... I am alone, so alone,» Omega whispered. 

«Alone?»

«In- in my mind. My molecules don't vibrate at the same frequency as the rest of our species. There is only emptiness.» Omega turned a pair of startlingly clear eyes on him and he realized that they were sad. «You don't remember, do you? Why don't you remember?»

«I'm not him,» the Doctor told him gently. He shook his head argumentatively.

«We had shared a friendship bond. Now that bond is gone, but your mind... It feels the same. I would know it anywhere.» Omega let out a shuddering breath; he was almost entirely faded now. The only thing keeping him in the material universe was his telepathic commune with the Doctor. «I have a request.»

«What?»

«Please. Take my consciousness and release it into the Matrix. Let me have peace.»

«I- I will.» They shared a brief moment of communication that was unspoken. Words were unnecessary. «Contact.»

«Co- contact...» 

Omega faded entirely from existence, the grating feeling of antimatter smoothing out in the Doctor's senses as he stood. 

"Doctor, you okay?" Tegan asked. He winced, the pressure headache making noise unpleasant due to the discomfort of carrying another consciousness in his mind.

"I will be Tegan," he murmured softly as he massaged his temples. "I'll need to make a quick trip to Gallifrey, but after that we can go anywhere we please. Preferably somewhere relaxing, if you would. It's been a hard few days."

"How's your cousin?" Nyssa asked. Tegan flashed a relieved smile.

"He's okay. He'll be staying in hospital for a few days before going back to Brisbane, so all in all it worked out okay."

"I'm glad," the Doctor said sincerely while flashing her a somewhat strained smile. He winced again at the pressure and let out a breath, hissing it through clenched teeth. 

"You sure you're alright?" Nyssa pressed, concerned. The Doctor massaged his temples again, this time a little more forcefully, and nodded.

"It's not serious and, quite frankly, I'll be okay after we pop back to Gallifrey for a few hours." They began walking to the TARDIS. "Come on."

~*~§~*~

"Oh now that's just not right," the Doctor groused. The Valeyard smirked at him, honey gold eyes flinty with cruel amusement as he ran a hand slowly, pointedly, through tousled sienna locks. The freckles generously sprinkling his nose and upper cheeks gave a sense of innocence to his expression that stood in sharp contrast to his twisted nature. They were standing inside of the Matrix talking one to one now, the Doctor openly admitting that he had purposefully walked right into the Valeyard's trap and the Valeyard knowing it. Mel was... somewhere, trying to fix everything.

"Oh come now," the Valeyard laughed as he adjusted his dramatic dark robes. "Surely you aren't jealous."

"Please," the Doctor snorted. "It's hardly fair that the only time I've ever been ginger it has to be the sum of my darker aspects personified."

"I wouldn't worry. My physical appearance is based off of a version of you."

"Oh, so I'm to be ginger at some point in my future?" The Valeyard made a show of examining his cuticles.

"You're going to be, you've already been, you will be again," he sighed melodramatically. The Doctor's brow furrowed in confusion as he tilted his golden-curled head to the side.

"Beg pardon?" The Valeyard snickered, stepping forward into the Doctor's personal space to flick some imagined dirt off of his multi-colored shoulder.

"It _grates_ at you, doesn't it?" He asked. "That I know something you don't."

"I see no reason why it shouldn't," the Doctor growled before stepping a good few feet away from his enemy. In turn, the Valeyard backpedaled and disappeared into the mist. His laughter echoed for quite some time after he had vanished, and grumbling under his breath he tried to find him again.

~*~§~*~

“Tell me, Time Lord, why do you battle against the inevitable?” The White Guardian asked patiently as he moved his chess piece. The Doctor shrugged, taking one of his pawns and polishing it with his question mark jumper before putting it back in the same spot on the board. 

“And what would the inevitable be?” He asked innocently. 

“Death. Loss. The eventual triumph of evil.”

“I thought you were the Guardian of good.”

“Which is why I concede that there cannot be one without the other. The Black Guardian And I are two parts of a whole. The people of Earth have a saying I believe. Yin and Yang. Push and pull. Light, and dark.”

“Personally, I believe that hope is one of the most powerful forces there is. Hope is renewal. It is perseverance. It’s light when all that is left is dark.” The Doctor sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve always been an optimist. Oh, there are times when I take the pessimistic approach but... deep down, under the act, under the pain, there lies the optimist staring at the universe in wide-eyed wonder.” The White Guardian was smiling softly by the end of this statement.

“I have watched over this multiverse since time immemorable,” he said nostalgically. “You really have no idea just how very much like him you remain at your core, do you?”

“Who?”

“Yourself.”

“That’s... the point of being oneself?” The Doctor returned, somewhat confused. The White Guardian just shook his head slightly at this and refocused on the chess match without another word on the matter.

~*~§~*~ 

“Maybe you’re the result of some sort of weird genetic experiment,” Grace suggested. 

“I don’t think so,” the Doctor (not that he knew that at present) replied with a soft smile. She frowned as she processed things.

“But you have no recollection of family?”

“No,” he murmured before a hazy image somewhat solidified in his mind’s eye. “No, no no no. Wait, wait. I remember... I’m with my father, we’re lying back in the grass, it’s a warm Gallifreyan night-“

“Gallifreyan?”

“Yes, Gallifrey!” The Doctor exclaimed excitedly. “This must be where I live! Now where is that?“

“I- never heard of it,” Grace replied, unable to resist his infectious enthusiasm by answering his grin with one of her own. “What do you remember?”

So many things, none of them stable enough to actually register as full memories but more as half-remembered dreams. His elder brother, chasing him through the fields of their estate. Playing hide and seek with his five younger sisters in the orchards. A mother who, despite her matriarchal duties, always found time for her children. And a voice, a woman... more brilliant than the sun in her golden radiance... had they had a son? Why did all of this cause him pain?

“A meteor storm!” The Doctor exclaimed as one thought finally took cohesive shape, exploding through his mind with its wonderful colors as he shook away the cobwebs of sad shadows. He danced about in place as he described the vision, arms outspread to a blanket of stars. “The sky above us was dancing with lights. Purple, green, brilliant yellow!” He stopped, turning to Grace with a beaming smile. “Yes!”

“What?” She asked excitedly, caught up in his joy. 

“These shoes!” He explained, enjoying the way they conformed to his feet as he tested them by running in place. “They fit perfectly! Yes!” He ran further into the park, his disorganized thoughts casting the odd memories aside to be forgotten as he focused on something else. 

He would later recall what he had said to Grace as he took in the beautiful sight of a nebula and spend the next week attempting to remember what he had - well, remembered - but to no avail. 

In truth, the Doctor was worried. How was it that he could have memories that were not his own and yet at the same time, were? Where had they come from? More importantly, why wasn’t he allowed by his own mind to access them? 

The obvious conclusion was one he aggressively denied, the implications dauntingly terrifying in their enormity.

~*~§~*~ 

He felt he should be more concerned about Rose’s new abilities as the Daughter of Vela. They were in the middle of a war. They’d just survived a fatal crash because she’d encased them in a time bubble, she’d pulsed with power and raw unrefined temporal energy. She’d healed herself after being horribly injured and had even healed him on her own.

And now she was asleep, curled in his lap as he’d been reading to her in the library, stroking her hair and feeling strangely at ease with the shimmering locks between his fingers that made a sparking contact when they hit his skin.

“What am I going to do with you?” The Doctor whispered softly. “Better question: why do I feel that this has happened before? Or that it’s okay? I should feel like I need to fix this. But... I don’t. And what unnerves me more is that I don’t even know why.”

“Must be part of my charm,” Rose joked weakly. He startled slightly, ministrations in her hair faltering before resuming normally. 

“How long have you been awake?” He asked softly. 

“Only a little bit. Drifted off while you were reading and woke up mid-ramble. Can’t believe you don’t even shut up enough to give _yourself_ some peace and quiet.”

“Ha Ha,” the Doctor muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes as Rose pulled herself up onto her elbows and kissed him on the underside of the jaw. His musings were quickly forgotten.

She appeared before him once more in that body, the first time when he was on a ship crashing toward the surface of Karn and urging him to save himself, because the alternative would have been to die and lose himself in the process of surviving. The second and last time was when he activated the Moment, appearing in the form of Bad Wolf, and the way that form made her look tugged at wisps of buried memory. The way she glowed, the way her hair shimmered with its own light. The way her eyes burned golden with raw time...

_Wolf Flower..._

~§§~

_Fiancée_. The Doctor couldn’t believe his luck that this beautiful girl was his other half, the completion of his soul. He couldn’t tell her that he remembered her prior to the business with the Autons, at least not until after she found him again, but he gave her everything. Every adventure, every companion he’d ever traveled with. His childhood on Gallifrey. And as she grew closer to him, the Doctor found himself relaxing into habits that felt old as the marrow in his bones. He didn’t know why it was as natural as breathing for him to accommodate his lifestyle to incorporate her into it with the assumption that she was his equal, but when he did it it was as if she’d always been there. 

He sent her home when the Daleks came back, willing to die that she might live. And when she came back as the Bad Wolf, terrifying in her power and beauty, the control she exhibited over her powers as if it were and had always been a part of her, so much so that it had permanently altered her physiology that she could carry it and continue to exhibit control, he had a brief moment of clarity that allowed him to remember who they both had been. 

When he kissed her, taking the Vortex from her, his mind was clouded and he forgot once again just as he always did. 

~§§~

_“Am I... ginger?”_

_“No... you’re just sorta brown...”_

_“Oh, I wanted to be ginger! I’ve never been ginger.”_

And yet, a voice in the back of his head whispered that that wasn’t strictly true even if he didn’t know why... 

When it came down to it, there were many points in the Doctor’s life where things didn’t add up. He knew things he shouldn’t have, could on occasions do things not generally possible. He had personal connections to people that he’d never truly known, and there was just this general sense of... Otherness about his life. But, as was often the case, he made a point to ignore these inconsistencies because he didn’t want to believe it was true. He was his own person. No supposed prior life would have its influence on him.

Or so he thought. All of the moments his past life shone through, they stood out as Eresian’s memories asserted themselves firmly in his head like a prior Regeneration. Like a first incarnation, temporally forgotten. And he found that he had always been Eresian whether he had known it or not, and thus Eresian had always been him. They were a seamless transition from one to the other, Eresian’s life influencing his past in all the important ways. 

And one of the most important currently stood in his arms, her hand trembling against his temple as she helped him remember all that he was. 

~§§~

“Ari,” the Doctor murmured softly into her hair, pulling Rose closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Some of the 'echoes' in this oneshot are copied text from The Three Doctors and The Five Doctors.  
> -The second 'echo' that pertains to the Fifth Doctor and Omega is an alteration of the ending to the Classic Who story Arc of Infinity.  
> -The Valeyard (originally played by Michael Jayston in The Trial of a Time Lord) had short, dark hair and light, grey-blue eyes. In my AU he looks like Eresian and is aware of their dual identity of The Other (as he is an amalgamation of the Doctor's darker aspects, which would include Eresian's as they are suppressed by being buried deep in the subconscious but still present). 
> 
> A/N: Translations  
> -Adofen - Ah-doe-fenn - Grandfather (Original Language, Modern Gallifreyan)
> 
> -Ainfa - Ayn-fah - Grandchild (Gender Neutral, Original Language, Modern Gallifreyan)


	18. Epilogue: Twice Upon a Time

“Why did you run from me?” One asked. The soldier was currently sleeping off a rather heavy dose of brandy and Bill had followed Twelve out to speak with Rusty the Dalek. Rose looked up from fixing a loose wire on the console and smiled softly at him. 

“I panicked,” she replied softly. “You weren’t supposed to have met me yet, and I was worried I’d messed everything up. I’m sorry.”

“But you like traveling with me?” He whispered, the vulnerable layer to his voice heartbreaking. “You, don’t mind that we’re connected?”

“Doctor, never think that,” Rose gasped, running over and enveloping in a hug. He stiffened for a moment before crumbling in her arms, and she held him tighter. “I love you. I will always love you. Trust me, you and me? It’s gonna be fantastic.” He pulled back slightly, a tentative smile on his face. It was tempered by the knowledge that he’d have to forget this until his twelfth incarnation, but at the moment the promise gave him peace. 

“I’ll- I’ll hold you to that, my dear.”

“Count on it.”

“So... Regeneration, then. The last one.”

“Maybe,” Rose said cryptically. One raised an eyebrow at her mischievous expression.

“And what do you mean by that, my dear?” He asked in an even voice that did little to disguise the curiosity underneath. Rose smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek, caressing the spot with her thumb.

“Long story, and I’m not gonna tell you how or why, but I’m the chosen daughter of the goddess of Time. And we’re gonna be together for a good long time.” She laughed at his speechless expression and drew his head down to rest their foreheads together, ignoring the spark of jealousy from Twelve. 

_Only you could be jealous of yourself,_ she teased over the Bond.

_Well... in my defense, I have a very good reason to be,_ came the sheepish, gruff Scottish reply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be honest people, how many of you thought I was just going to leave poor One hurt before you got to the bottom of this? 
> 
> The song for this story is "Heaven" by Avicii and can be found here:  
> https://youtu.be/_h2pASe81ko
> 
> And... yeah. That's the end of this story. I know the Timeless Child thing has drastically changed Gallifreyan history, but I wrote most of this in 2014 (or was it 15???) and then forgot about it until now. I hope you enjoyed all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: ALL RIGHTS GO TO DOCTOR WHO, THE BBC, AND ANY OTHER KNOWN AFFILIATES. THIS IS A NOT FOR PROFIT WORK.


End file.
